THE  UNIVERSITY.  i 
OF  ILUNOIS 
LIBRARY 

342.42 

E)l4 

V30G> 


Return  this  book  on  or  before  the 
Latest  Date  stamped  below. 


THE 


-in'  'i;  ii 

ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION, 

AND  OTHER  POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


BT 

WALTER  BAGEHOT, 

A-CTHOB  of  “physics  and  politics;”  editor  op  the  LONDON  ECONOairfTt  BTO^ 


LATEST  REVISED  EDTTJOH. 


NEW  YORK: 

D.  APPLETON  & COMPANY, 
1906. 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2017  with  funding  from 

University  of  Illinois  Urbana-Champaign  Alternates 


https://archive.org/details/englishconstitut00bage_2 


3 H 

AMEEICAK  PEEFACE. 


g 


“The  English  Constitution,”  by  Mr.  Walter  Bagehot, 
has  already  attracted  some  attention  in  this  country,  but 
it  is  a work  that  deserves  to  be  much  more  widely  and 
familiarly  known.  Its  title,  however,  is  so  little  suggestive 
of  its  real  character,  and  is  so  certain  to  repel  and  mislead 
American  readers,  that,  in  bringing  out  a new  and  cheaper 
edition  of  it,  at  this  time,  some  prefatory  words  may  be 
useful  for  the  correction  of  erroneous  impressions. 

^ It  is  well  known  that  the  term  “ Constitution,”  in  its 
^ political  sense,  has  very  different  significations  in  England 
and  in  this  country.  With  us  it  means  a written  instru- 
, ment,  decreed  at  a certain  time  to  be  the  supreme  law  of 
the  land.  Hence,  when  a book  appears  upon  the  Ameri- 
i can  Constitution,  if  not  a history  of  its  adoption,  it  will 
^ probably  be  a commentary  upon  its  meanings ; that  is, 
some  kind  of  a law-treatise,  dealing  with  the  technical  in- 
terpretations of  a legal  instrument.  The  English,  on  the 
4s  contrary,  have  no  such  written  document.  By  the  national 
Constitution  they  mean  their  actual  social  and  political 
order  — the  whole  body  of  laws,  usages,  and  precedents, 
^x^^hich  have  been  inherited  from  former  generations,  and  by 
Cn  which  the  practice  of  government  is  regulated.  A work 
''^upon  the  English  Constitution,  therefore,  brings  us  natural- 
^^y  to  the  direct  consideration  of  the  structure  and  practical 
'a  working  of  English  political  institutions  and  social  life. 

^ The  American  Constitution  was  “framed”  by  a con- 
^^vention  ; the  English  Constitution  is  a growth  of  centuries. 
Books  written  upon  the  two  Constitutions  are,  therefore. 


i 


O 

■^%j} 


4 


AMERICAN  PREFACE. 


likely  to  differ,  tnucli  as  a manual  of  carpentry  differs  from 
a hand-book  of  physiology  ; the  former  belonging  rather 
to  the  province  of  constructive  art,  and  the  latter  to  that 
of  natural  science.  While  in  the  study  of  the  American 
Constitution  we  are  occupied  with  the  ‘‘intentions  of  the 
framers,”  the  “ rules  of  construction,”  and  the  lore  of 
lawyers,  to  get  at  the  sense  of  a printed  tract,  the  study 
of  the  English  Constitution  introduces  us  more  directly  to 
facts  and  phenomena,  or  the  laws  of  political  activity, 
social  change,  and  national  growth.  These  objects  of 
inquiry  obviously  lend  themselves  to  the  scientific  method 
of  treatment,  which  aims  to  trace  out  the  working  of 
natural  causes  and  inherent  principles,  and  hence  has  in- 
terest for  all  students  of  political  philosophy.  Mr.  Bage- 
hot’s  work  is  written  virtually,  if  not  formally,  from  this 
point  of  view  ; it  is  pervaded  by  the  scientific  spirit,  with- 
out taking  on  the  technical  forms  of  scientific  exposition. 

With  the  author’s  inclination  and  capacity  to  regard 
public  questions  in  their  scientific  aspects,  many  readers 
are  already  familiar  through  his  suggestive  volume  entitled 
“Physics  and  Politics.”  “The  English  Constitution ” is  a 
work  of  the  same  quality,  and  treats  its  subjects  very 
much  with  reference  to  the  principles  of  human  nature 
and  the  natural  laws  of  human  society.  It  is  a free  dis- 
quisition on  English  political  experience  ; an  acute,  critical, 
and  dispassionate  discussion  of  English  institutions,  de- 
signed to  show  how  they  operate,  and  to  point  out  their 
defects  and  advantages.  The  writer  is  not  so  much  a par- 
tisan or  an  advocate,  as  a cool,  philosophical  inquirer,  with 
large  knowledge,  clear  insight,  independent  opinions,  and 
great  freedom  from  the  bias  of  what  he  terms  that  “ter- 
ritorial sectarianism  called  patriotism.”  His  criticism  of  the 
faults  of  the  English  system  is  searching  and  trenchant, 
and  his  appreciation  of  its  benefits  and  usefulness  is  cor- 
dial, discriminating,  and  wise.  He  discusses  old  traditions 


AMERICAN  PREFACE. 


5 


and  modem  innovations,  aristocratic  privileges  and  demo- 
cratic tendencies,  with* an  absence  of  prejudice  that  comes 
from  a predominant  scientific  temper  of  mind.  Taking  up 
in  succession  the  Cabinet,  the  Monarchy,  the  House  of 
Lords,  and  the  House  of  Commons,  he  considers  them  in 
what  may  be  called  their  dynamical  interactions,  and  in 
relation  to  the  habits,  traditions,  culture,  and  character  of 
the  English  people.  The  book,  indeed,  is  full  of  instruc- 
tive episodes,  and  sagacious  reflections  on  the  springs  of 
action  in  human  nature,  the  exercise  of  power  by  individ- 
uals or  political  bodies,  the  adaptation  of  institutions  to 
the  qualities  and  circumstances  of  the  different  classes  who 
live  under  them,  and  numerous  points  of  political  philoso- 
phy, which  are  applicable  everywhere,  and  have  an  interest 
for  all  students  of  political  and  social  affairs. 

There  is  much  in  Mr.  Bagehot’s  volume  that  bears  very 
suggestively  upon  the  state  of  things  in  this  country.  His 
comparison,  in  various  points,  of  the  working  of  Cabinet 
government  with  that  of  Presidential  government  raises 
questions  regarding  our  own  system  which  are  forced  into 
greater  prominence  by  every  decade  of  our  national  ex- 
perience. But  the  book  should  be  read  by  Americans  not 
only  for  the  interesting  information  it  contains,  and  the 
brilliant  light  it  throws  upon  the  internal  polity  of  a great 
nation  from  which  we  have  derived  so  much  of  our  own 
institutions,  but  because  it  will  exert  a widening  and  liber- 
alizing influence  upon  the  minds  of  our  people,  who  are 
too  apt  to  look  upon  all  other  governments  with  a kind  of 
bigoted  contempt.  Our  intense  politics,  chiefly  occupied 
with  selfish  and  sordid  interests,  and  bitter  personal  rival- 
ries, tend  to  exclude  from  this  sphere  of  thought  every- 
thing like  science,  or  the  large  and  liberal  study  of  political 
principles.  Narrow  views  lead  to  a depreciation  of  every^ 
thing  foreign  that  differs  from  our  own  system  and  pracf 
tice.  A distinguished  professor  in  one  of  our  leading  col- 


6 


AMERICAN  PREFACE. 


leges  remarked  that,  when  the  students  come  up  in  their 
last  year  to  acquire  some  notions  of  political  science,  their 
want  of  information  relating  to  everything  beyond  the  lim- 
its of  their  own  country  — their  ignorance  of  anything  like 
comparative  politics  — is  to  the  last  degree  discreditable. 
Such  narrowness  is  only  to  be  corrected  by  travel  and 
extended  observation,  or  by  cultivating  those  studies  and 
reading  those  books  that  will  give  clear  and  just  concep- 
tions of  the  policy  of  other  leading  nations.  Mr.  Bagehot’s 
analysis  of  the  English  Constitution  will  be  helpful  to  this 
end ; and  we  doubt  if  there  is  any  other  volume  so  useful 
for  our  countrymen  to  peruse  before  visiting  England.  It 
will  enable  Americans  to  understand  many  things  that  at 
first  perplex  and  disgust  them  in  an  old  historic  country, 
where  all  that  most  impresses  the  mind  is  so  different  from 
what  we  are  accustomed  to  here. 

It  remains  further  to  say  that  Mr.  Bagehot’s  work  has 
a charming  readableness  that  would  not  be  suspected  from 
its  title  or  subject.  It  is  written  with  an  easy  liveliness, 
a vivacious  wit,  and  a felicity  of  style,  that  place  it  high 
in  the  scale  of  literary  excellence. 

The  studies  of  character  of  Brougham  and  Peel,  that 
are  appended  to  the  present  edition,  and  have  not  before 
appeared  in  this  country,  will  be  read  with  avidity,  as 
they  not  only  serve  to  throw  additional  light  upon  the 
modern  politics  of  England,  but  give  us  an  interesting 
insight  into  the  intellectual  life  of  two  of  the  most  con- 
spicuous men  who  have  figured  in  public  affairs  during 
the  past  generation. 

E.  L.  Y. 

New  York,  February^  ISY'I. 


CONTEN-TS. 

PAGE 

American  Preface iii 

1. 

Introduction  to  the  Second  Edition * 1 

11. 

The  Cabinet 69 

III. 

The  Monarchy 101 

lY. 

The  Monarchy  {continued) 125 

V. 

The  House  of  Lords • .167 

VI. 


The  House  of  Commons  , 


198 


CONTENTS. 


viii 


VIL 


On  Changes  of  Ministry 


yiii. 

Its  Supposed  Checks  and  Balances 


IX. 

The  Pre-Requisites  op  Cabinet  Government,  and  the  Peculiar 
Form  which  they  have  assumed  in  England  . . . . 


X. 

Its  History,  and  the  Effects  of  that  History. — Conclusion 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 
The  Character  of  Lord  Brougham 
The  Character  of  Sir  Robert  Peel 


PAGE 

244 

287 

322 

340 


366 

421 


THE 


ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


I. 

INTEODTJCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


There  is  a great  difficulty  in  the  way  of  a writer  who 
attempts  to  sketch  a living  Constitution — a Constitution 
that  is  in  actual  work  and  power.  The  difficulty  is  that 
the  object  is  in  constant  change.  An  historical  writer 
does  not  feel  this  difficulty  : he  deals  only  with  the  past ; 
he  can  say  definitely,  the  Constitution  worked  in  such  and 
such  a manner  in  the  year  at  which  he  begins,  and  in  a 
manner  in  such  and  such  respects  different  in  the  year 
at  which  he  ends ; he  begins  with  a definite  point  of  time 
and  ends  with  one  also.  But  a contemporary  writer  who 
tries  to  paint  what  is  before  him  is  puzzled  and  perplexed ; 
what  he  sees  is  changing  daily.  He  must  paint  it  as  it 
stood  at  some  one  time,  or  else  he  will  be  putting  side  by 
side  in  his  representations  things  which  never  were  contem- 
poraneous in  reality.  The  difficulty  is  the  greater  because 
a writer  who  deals  with  a living  government  naturally 


2 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


compares  it  with  the  most  important  other  living  govern- 
ments, and  these  are  changing  too;  what  he  illustrates 
are  altered  in  one  way,  and  his  sources  of  illustration 
are  altered  probably  in  a different  way.  This  difficulty  has 
been  constantly  in  my  way  in  preparing  a second  edition  of 
this  book.  It  describes  the  English  Constitution  as  it  stood 
in  the  years  1865  and  1866.  Eoughly  speaking,  it  de- 
scribes its  working  as  it  was  in  the  time  of  Lord  Palmer- 
ston ; and  since  that  time  there  have  been  many  changes, 
some  of  spirit  and  some  of  detail.  In  so  short  a 
period  there  have  rarely  been  more  changes.  If  I had 
given  a sketch  of  the  Palmerston  time  as  a sketch  of  the 
present  time,  it  would  have  been  in  many  points  untrue  ; 
and  if  I had  tried  to  change  the  sketch  of  seven  years 
since  into  a sketch  of  the  present  time,  I should  probably 
have  blurred  the  picture  and  have  given  something 
equally  unlike  both. 

The  best  plan  in  such  a case  is,  I think,  to  keep  the 
original  sketch  in  all  essentials  as  it  was  at  first  written, 
and  to  describe  shortly  such  changes  either  in  the  Constitu- 
tion itself,  or  in  the  Constitutions  compared  with  it,  as 
seem  material.  There  are  in  this  book  various  expressions 
which  allude  to  persons  who  were  living  and  to  events 
which  were  happening  when  it  first  appeared ; and  I have 
carefully  preserved  these.  They  will  serve  to  warn  the 
reader  what  time  he  is  reading  about,  and  to  prevent  hig 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


8 


mistaking  the  date  at  which  the  likeness  was  attempted 
to  be  taken.  I proceed  to  speak  of  the  changes  which 
nave  taken  place  either  in  the  Constitution  itself  or  in  the 
competing  institutions  which  illustrate  it. 

It  is  too  soon  as  yet  to  attempt  to  estimate  the  effect  of 
the  Eeform  Act  of  1867.  The  people  enfranchised  imder  it 
do  not  yet  know  their  own  power : a single  election,  so  far 
from  teaching  us  how  they  will  use  that  power,  has  not  been 
even  enough  to  explain  to  them  that  they  have  such 
power.  The  Eeform  Act  of  1832  did  not  for  many  years 
disclose  its  real  consequences  ; a writer  in  1836,  whether 
he  approved  or  disapproved  of  themj  whether  he  thought 
too  little  of  or  whether  he  exaggerated  them,  would  have 
been  sure  to  be  mistaken  in  them.  A new  Constitution 
does  not  produce  its  full  effect  as  long  as  all  its  subjects 
were  reared  under  an  old  Constitution,  as  long  as  its 
statesmen  were  trained  by  that  old  Constitution.  It  is 
not  really  tested  till  it  comes  to  be  worked  by  statesmen 
and  among  a people  neither  of  whom  are  guided  by  a 
different  experience. 

In  one  respect  we  are  indeed  particularly  likely  to  be 
mistaken  as  to  the  effect  of  the  last  Eeform  Bill.  Unde- 
niably there  has  lately  been  a great  change  in  our  politics. 
It  is  commonly  said  that  “there  is  not  a brick  of  the 
Palmerston  House  standing.”  The  change  since  1865  is 
a change  not  in  one  point  but  in  a thousand  points ; it 


4 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


is  a change  not  of  particular  details  but  of  pervading 
spirit.  We  are  now  quarrelling  as  wO  the  minor  details 
of  an  Education  Act  ; in  Lord  Palmerston’s  time  no  such 
Act  could  have  passed.  In  Lord  Palmerston’s  time  Sir 
Greorge  Grey  said  that  the  disestablishment  of  the  Irish 
Church  would  be  an  “ act  of  Eevolution  2”  it  has  now  been 
disestablished  by  great  majorities,  with  Sir  George  Grey 
himself  assenting.  A new  world  has  arisen  which  is  not 
as  the  old  world ; and  we  naturally  ascribe  the  change  to 
the  Reform  Act.  But  this  is  a complete  mistake.  If 
there  had  been  no  Reform  Act  at  all  there  would,  never- 
theless, have  been  a great  change  in  English  politics. 
There  has  been  a change  of  the  sort  which,  above  all, 
generates  other  changes — a change  of  generation.  Gene- 
rally one  generation  in  politics  succeeds  another  almost 
silently ; at  every  moment  men  of  all  ages  between  thirty 
and  seventy  have  considerable  influence  ; each  year 
removes  many  old  men,  makes  all  others  older,  brings 
in  many  new.  The  transition  is  so  gradual  that  we 
hardly  perceive  it.  The  board  of  directors  of  the  poli- 
tical company  has  a few  slight  changes  every  year,  and 
therefore  the  shareholders  are  conscious  of  no  abrupt 
change.  But  sometimes  there  is  an  abrupt  change.  It 
occasionally  happens  that  several  ruling  directors  who 
are  about  the  same  age  live  on  for  many  years,  manage 
the  company  all  through  those  years,  and  then  go  oflf  the 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


5 


«cene  almost  together.  In  that  case  the  affairs  of  the 
company  are  apt  to  alter  much,  for  good  or  for  evil: 
sometimes  it  becomes  more  successful,  sometimes  it  is 
luined,  but  it  hardly  ever  stays  as  it  was.  Something 
like  this  happened  before  1865.  All  through  the  period 
between  1832  and  1865,  the  pre-32  statesmen — if 
I may  so  call  them — Lord  Derby,  Lord  Eussell,  Lord 
Palmerston  retained  great  power.  Lord  Palmerston 
to  the  last  retained  great  prohibitive  power.  Though 
in  some  ways  always  young,  he  had  not  a particle  of 
sympathy  with  the  younger  generation  ; he  brought  for- 
ward no  young  men ; he  obstructed  all  that  young  men 
wished.  In  consequence,  at  his  death  a new  generation 
all  at  once  started  into  life  : the  pre-32  all  at  once  died 
out.  Most  of  the  new  politicians  were  men  who  might 
well  have  been  Lord  Palmerston’s  grandchildren.  He  came 
into  Parliament  in  1806,  they  entered  it  after  1856. 
Such  an  enormous  change  in  the  age  of  the  workerr 
necessarily  caused  a great  change  in  the  kind  of  work 
attempted  and  the  way  in  which  it  was  done.  What  we 
call  the  spirit  ” of  politics  is  more  surely  changed  by  a 
change  of  generation  in  the  men  than  by  any  other 
change  whatever.  Even  if  there  had  been  no  Eeform  Act, 
this  single  cause  would  have  effected  grave  alterations. 

The  mere  settlement  of  the  Eeform  question  made  a 
great  change  too.  If  it  could  have  been  settled  by  any 


6 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


other  change,  or  even  without  any  change,  the  instant  effect 
of  the  settlement  would  still  have  been  immense.  New 
questions  would  have  appeared  at  once.  A political  country 
is  like  an  American  forest : you  have  only  to  cut  down 
the  old  trees,  and  immediately  new  trees  come  up  to 
replace  them ; the  seeds  were  waiting  in  the  ground,  and 
they  began  to  grow  as  soon  as  the  withdrawal  of  the  old 
ones  brought  in  light  and  air.  These  new  questions  of 
themselves  would  have  made  a new  atmosphere,  new 
parties,  new  debates. 

Of  course  I am  not  arguing  that  so  important  an  Inno- 
vation as  the  Eeform  Act  of  1867  will  not  have  very  great 
effects.  It  must,  in  all  likelihood,  have  many  great  ones.  I 
am  only  saying  that  as  yet  we  do  not  know  what  those 
effects  are;  that  the  great  evident  change  since  1865  is 
certainly  not  strictly  due  to  it ; probably  is  not  even  in  a 
principal  measure  due  to  it;  that  we  have  still  to  conjec- 
ture what  it  will  cause  and  what  it  will  not  cause. 

The  principal  question  arises  most  naturally  from  a 
main  doctrine  of  these  essays.  I have  said  that  Ipabinet 
government  is  possible  in  England  because  England  was 
a deferential  meant  that  the  nominal  con- 


stituency was  not  the  real  constituency ; that  the  mass 
jf  the  ten-pound  ” householders  did  not  really  form  their 
own  opinions,  and  did  not  exact  of  their  representatives 
an  obedience  to  those  opinions ; that  they  were  in  fact 
guided  in  their  judgment  by  the  better  educated  classes; 


INTROBUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


7 


that  they  preferred  representatives  from  those  classes,  and 
gave  those  representatives  much  license.  If  a hundred 
small  shopkeepers  had  by  miracle  been  added  to  any  of 
the  ’32  Parliaments,  they  would  have  felt  outcasts  there. 
Nothing  could  be  more  unlike  those  Parliaments  than 
the  average  mass  of  the  constituency  from  which  it  was 
chosen. 

I do  not  of  course  mean  that  the  ten-pound  householders 
were  great  admirers  of  intellect  or  good  judges  of  refine- 
ment. We  all  know  that,  for  the  most  part,  they  were 
not  so  at  all : very  few  Englishmen  are.  They  were  not 
influenced  by  ideas,  but  by  facts  ; not  by  things  palpable, 
but  by  things  impalpable.  Not  to  put  too  fine  a point 
upon  it,  they  were  influenced  by  rank  and  wealth.  No 
doubt  the  better  sort  of  them  believed  that  those  who 
were  superior  to  them  in  these  indisputable  respects  were 
superior  also  in  the  more  intangible  qualities  of  sense  and 
knowledge.  But  the  mass  of  the  old  electors  did  not 
analyze  very  much ; they  liked  to  have  one  of  their 
‘‘betters”  to  represent  them ; if  he  was  rich,  they  respected 
him  much  ; and  if  he  was  a lord,  they  liked  him  the  better. 

The  issue  put  before  these  electors  was  which  of  two  rich 
people  will  you  choose  ? And  each  of  those  rich  people 
was  put  forward  by  great  parties  whose  notions  were  the 
notions  of  the  rich — whose  plans  were  their  plans.  The 
electors  only  selected  one  of  two  wealthy  men  to  carry  ^ 
out  the  schemes  of  one  ot  two  wealthy  associations. 


i 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


So  fully  was  this  so,  that  the  class  to  whom  the  great 
body  of  the  ten-pound  householders  belonged — the  lower 
middle  class — was  above  all  classes  the  one  most  hardly 
treated  in  the  imposition  of  the  taxes.  A small  shopkeeper 
or  a clerk  who  just,  and  only  just,  was  rich  enough  to  pay 
income  tax,  was  perhaps  the  only  severely-taxed  man  in 
the  country.  He  paid  the  rates,  the  tea,  sugar,  tobacco, 
malt,  and  spirit  taxes,  as  well  as  the  income  tax,  but  his 
means  were  exceedingly  small.  Curiously  enough  the 
class  which  in  theory  was  omnipotent,  was  the  only  class 
financially  ill-treated.  Throughout  the  history  of  our 
former  Parliaments  the  constituency  could  no  more  have 
originated  the  policy  which  those  Parliaments  selected 
than  they  could  have  made  the  solar  system. 

As  I have  endeavoured  to  show  in  this  volume,  the 
deference  of  the  old  electors  to  their  betters  was  the  only 
way  in  which  our  old  system  could  be  maintained.  No 
doubt  countries  can  be  imagined  in  which  the  mass  of 
the  electors  would  be  thoroughly  competent  to  form  good 
opinions ; approximations  to  that  state  happily  exist.  But 
such  was  not  the  state  of  the  minor  English  shopkeepers. 
They  were  just  competent  to  make  a selection  between 
two  sets  of  superior  ideas ; or  rather — for  the  conceptions 
of  such  people  are  more  personal  than  abstract — between 
two  opposing  parties,  each  professing  a creed  of  such  ideas. 
But  they  could  do  no  more.  Their  own  notions,  if  they 
had  been  cross-examined  upon  them,  would  have  bee» 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


9 


found  always  most  confused  and  often  most  foolish.  They 
were  competent  to  decide  an  issue  selected  by  the  higher 
classes,  but  they  were  incompetent  to  do  more. 

The  grave  question  now  is,  How  far  will  this  peculiar 
old  system  continue  and  how  far  will  it  be  altered  ? I am 
afraid  I must  put  aside  at  once  the  idea  that  it  will 
be  altered  entirely  and  altered  for  the  better.  I cannot 
expect  that  the  new  class  of  voters  will  be  at  all  more  able 
to  form  sound  opinions  on  complex  questions  than  the  old 
voters.  There  was  indeed  an  idea — a very  prevalent  idea 
when  the  first  edition  of  this  book  was  published— that 
there  then  was  an  unrepresented  class  of  skilled  artizans 
who  could  form  superior  opinions  on  national  matters,  and 
ought  to  have  the  means  of  expressing  them.  We  used 
to  frame  elaborate  schemes  to  give  them  such  means.  But 
the  Eeform  Act  of  1867  did  not  stop  at  skilled  labour ; it 
enfranchised  unskilled  labour  too.  And  no  one  will  contend 
that  the  ordinary  working-man  who  has  no  special  skill,  and 
who  is  only  rated  because  he  has  a house,  can  judge  much 
of  intellectual  matters.  The  messenger  in  an  oflSce  is 
not  more  intelligent  than  the  clerks,  not  better  educated 
but  worse  : and  yet  the  messenger  is  probably  a very 
auperior  specimen  of  the  newly  enfranchised  classes.  The 
avei-age  can  only  earn  very  scanty  wages  by  coarse  labour. 
Vhey  have  no  time  to  improve  themselv^^s.  for  they  are 
.abouring  the  whole  day  through  ; and  their  early  educa- 
tion was  so  small  that  in  most  cases  it  is  dubious  whether, 
2 


10 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


even  if  they  had  much  time,  they  could  use  it  to  good 
purpose.  We  have  not  enfranchised  a class  less  needing 
to  be  guided  by  their  betters  than  the  old  class ; on  the 
contrary,  the  new  class  need  it  more  than  the  old.  The 
real  question  is.  Will  they  submit  to  it,  will  they  defer  in 
the  same  way  to  wealth  and  rank,  and  to  the  higher  quali- 
ties of  which  these  are  the  rough  symbols  and  the  common 
accompaniments  ? 

There  is  a peculiar  difficulty  in  answering  this  question. 
Generally,  the  debates  upon  the  passing  of  an  Act  contain 
much  valuable  instruction  as  to  what  may  be  expected  of 
it.  But  the  debates  on  the  Eeform  Act  of  1867  hardly 
tell  anything.  They  are  taken  up  with  technicalities  as 
to  the  ratepayers  and  tne  compound  householder.  Nobody 
in  the  country  knew  what  was  being  done.  I happenea 
at  the  time  to  visit  a purely  agricultural  and  conservative 
county,  and  I asked  the  local  Tories,  “ Do  you  understand 
this  Eeform  Bill  ? Do  you  know  that  your  Conservative 
Government  has  brought  in  a Bill  far  more  Eadical  than 
any  former  Bill,  and  that  it  is  very  likely  to  be  passed  ? ” 
The  answer  I got  was,  What  stuff  you  talk  ! How  can 
it  be  a Eadical  Eeform  Bill?  Why  Bright  opposes  it  I” 
There  was  no  answering  that  in  a way  which  a “ common 
jury  ” could  understand.  The  Bill  was  Supported  by  the 
Times  and  opposed  by  Mr.  Bright ; and  therefore  the  mass 
of  the  Conservatives  and  of  common  moderate  people, 
without  distinction  of  party,  had  no  conception  of  the 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


11 


effect.  They  said  it  was  “ London  nonsense  ” if  you  tried 
to  explain  it  to  them.  The  nation  indeed  generally  looks 
to  the  discussions  in  Parliament  to  enlighten  it  as  to  the 
effect  of  Bills.  But  in  this  case  neither  party,  as  a partjj 
could  speak  out.  Many,  perhaps  most  of  the  intelligenf 
Conservatives,  were  fearful  of  the  consequences  of  the 
proposal ; but  as  it  was  made  by  the  heads  of  their  own 
party,  they  did  not  like  to  oppose  it,  and  the  discipline  of 
party  carried  them  with  it.  On  the  other  side,  many, 
probably  most  of  the  intelligent  Liberals,  were  in  conster- 
nation at  the  Bill ; they  had  been  in  the  habit  for  years 
of  proposing  Eeform  Bills ; they  knew  the  points  of  differ- 
ence  between  each  Bill,  and  perceived  that  this  was  by  far 
the  most  sweeping  which  had  ever  been  proposed  by  any 
Ministry.  But  they  were  almost  all  unwilling  to  say  so. 
They  would  have  offended  a large  section  in  their  con- 
stituencies  if  they  had  resisted  a Tory  Bill  because  it  was 
too  democratic ; the  extreme  partizans  of  democracy 
would  have  said,  “The  enemies  of  the  people  have  confi- 
dence enough  in  the  people  to  entrust  them  with  this 
power,  but  you,  a ‘ Liberal,’  and  a professed  friend  of  the 
people,  have  not  that  confidence ; if  that  is  so,  we  will 
never  vote  for  you  again.”  Many  Kadical  members  who 
had  been  asking  for  years  for  household  suffrage  were 
much  more  surprised  than  pleased  at  the  near  chance  of 
obtaining  it ; they  had  asked  for  it  as  bargainers  ask  for 
the  highest  possible  price,  but  they  never  expected  to  get 


12 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


it.  Altogether  the  Liberals,  or  at  least  the  extreme 
Liberals,  were  much  like  a man  who  has  been  pushing 
hard  against  an  opposing  door  till,  on  a sudden,  the  door 
opens,  the  resistance  ceases,  and  he  is  thrown  violently 
forward.  Persons  in  such  an  unpleasant  predicament  can 
sc^arcely  criticise  effectually,  and  certainly  the  Liberals 
did  not  so  criticise.  We  have  had  no  such  previous  dis- 
cussions as  should  guide  our  expectations  from  the  Eeform 
Bill,  nor  such  as  under  ordinary  circumstances  we  should 
have  had. 

Nor  does  the  experience  of  the  last  election  much  help 
us.  The  circumstances  were  too  exceptional.  In  the  first 
place,  Mr.  Gladstone’s  personal  popularity  was  such  as 
has  not  been  seen  since  the  time  of  Mr.  Pitt,  and  such  as 
may  never  be  seen  again.  Certainly  it  will  very  rarely 
be  seen.  A bad  speaker  is  said  to  have  been  asked  how 
he  got  on  as  a candidate.  “ Oh,”  he  answered,  when  I do 
not  know  what  to  say,  I say  ^ Gladstone,’  and  then  they 
are  sure  to  cheer,  and  I have  time  to  think.”  In  fact, 
that  popularity  acted  as  a guide  both  to  constituencies 
and  to  members.  The  candidates  only  said  they  would 
vote  with  Mr.  Gladstone,  and  the  constituencies  only 
chose  those  who  said  so.  Even  the  minority  could  only 
be  described  as  anti-Gladstone,  just  as  the  majority  could 
only  be  described  as  pro-Gladstone.  The  remains, 
too,  of  the  old  electoral  organization  were  exceedingly 
powerful , the  old  voters  voted  as  they  had  been  told,  and 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


13 


the  new  voters  mostly  voted  with  them.  In  extremeljy 
few  cases  was  there  any  new  and  contrary  organization. 
At  the  last  election  the  trial  of  the  new  system  hardly 
began^  and,  as  far  as  it  did  begin,  it  was  favoured  by  a 
peculiar  guidance. 

In  the  meantime  our  statesmen  have  the  greatest  oppor- 
tunities they  have  had  for  many  years,  and  likewise  the 
greatest  duty.  They  have  to  guide  the  new  voters  in  the 
exercise  of  the  franchise;  to  guide  them  quietly,  and 
without  saying  what  they  are  doing,  but  still  to  guide 
them.  The  leading  statesmen  in  a free  country  have 
great  momentary  power.  They  settle  the  conversation  of 
mankind.  It  is  they  who,  by  a great  speech  or  two, 
determine  what  shall  be  said  and  what  shall  be  written 
for  long  after.  They,  in  conjunction  with  their  counsel- 
lors, settle  the  programme  of  their  party — the  platform,” 
as  the  Americans  call  it,  on  which  they  and  those  asso- 
ciated with  them  are  to  take  their  stand  for  the  political 
campaign.  It  is  by  that  programme,  by  a comparison  of 
the  programmes  of  different  statesmen,  that  the  world 
forms  its  judgment.  The  common  ordinary  mind  is 
quite  unfit  to  fix  for  itself  what  political  question  it  shall 
attend  to ; it  is  as  much  as  it  can  do  to  judge  decently  of 
the  questions  which  drift  down  to  it,  and  are  brought 
before  it ; it  almost  never  settles  its  topics ; it  can  only 
decide  upon  the  issues  of  those  topics.  And  in  settling  what 
these  questions  shall  be,  statesmen  have  now  especially 


14 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


a great  responsibility.  If  they  raise  questions  whieh  will 
excite  the  lower  orders  of  mankind ; if  they  raise  ques- 
tions on  which  those  orders  are  likely  to  be  wrong ; if 
they  raise  questions  on  which  the  interest  of  those  orders 
is  not  identical  with,  or  is  antagonistic  to,  the  whole 
interest  of  the  state,  they  will  have  done  the  greatest 
harm  they  can  do.  The  future  of  this  country  depends 
on  the  happy  working  of  a delicate  experiment,  and  they 
will  have  done  all  they  could  to  vitiate  that  experiment. 
Just  when  it  is  desirable  that  ignorant  men,  new  to  politics, 
should  have  good  issues,  and  only  good  issues,  put  before 
them.,  these  statesmen  will  have  suggested  bad  issues.  They 
will  have  suggested  topics  which  will  bind  the  poor  as  a 
class  together;  topics  which  will  excite  them  against 
the  rich ; topics  the  discussion  of  which  in  the  only 
form  in  which  that  discussion  reaches  their  ear  will  be  to 
make  them  think  that  some  new  law  can  make  them 
comfortable — that  it  is  the  present  law  which  makes  them 
uncomfortable — that  Government  has  at  its  disposal  an 
inexhaustible  fund  out  of  which  it  can  give  to  those  who 
now  want  without  also  creating  elsewhere  other  and  greater 
wants.  If  the  first  work  of  the  poor  voters  is  to  try  to 
create  a “ poor  man’s  paradise,”  as  poor  men  are  apt  to 
fancy  that  Paradise,  and  as  they  are  apt  to  think  they  can 
create  it,  the  great  political  trial  now  beginning  will 
simply  fail.  The  wide  gift  of  the  elective  franchise  will 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


15 


be  a great  calamity  to  the  whole  nation,  and  to  those  who 
gain  it  as  great  a calamity  as  to  any. 

I do  not  of  course  mean  that  statesmen  can  choose  with 
absolute  freedom  what  topics  they  will  deal  with,  and  what 
they  will  not.  I am,  of  course,  aware  that  they  choose 
under  stringent  conditions.  In  excited  states  of  the 
public  mind  they  have  scarcely  a discretion  at  all ; th( 
tendency  of  the  public  perturbation  determines  what  shaL 
and  what  shall  not  be  dealt  with.  But,  upon  the  other 
hand,  in  quiet  times  statesmen  have  great  power ; when 
there  is  no  fire  lighted  they  can  settle  what  fire  shall  be 
lit.  And  as  the  new  suffrage  is  happily  to  be  tried  in  a 
quiet  time,  the  responsibility  of  our  statesmen  is  great 
because  their  power  is  great  too. 

And  the  mode  in  which  the  questions  dealt  with  are 
discussed  is  almost  as  important  as  the  selection  of  these 
questions.  It  is  for  our  principal  statesmen  to  lead  the 
public,  and  not  to  let  the  public  lead  them.  No  doubt 
when  statesmen  live  by  public  favour,  as  ours  do,  this  is  a 
hard  saying,  and  it  requires  to  be  carefully  limited.  I do 
not  mean  that  our  statesmen  should  assume  a pedantic 
and  doctrinaire  tone  with  the  English  people  ; if  there  is 
anything  which  English  people  thoroughly  detest,  it  is 
that  tone  exactly.  And  they  are  right  in  detesting  it , if 
a man  cannot  give  guidance  and  communicate  instruction 
formally  without  telling  his  audience  “ I am  better  than 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


16 

you ; I have  studied  this  as  you  have  not,”  then  he  is 
not  fit  for  a guide  or  an  instructor.  A statesman  who 
should  show  that  gaucherie  would  exhibit  a defect  of 
imagination,  and  expose  an  incapacity  for  dealing  with 
men,  which  would  be  a great  hindrance  to  him  in  his 
calling.  But  much  argument  is  not  required  to  guide  the 
pubbc,  still  less  a formal  exposition  of  that  argument. 
What  is  mostly  needed  is  the  manly  utterance  of  clear 
conclusions  ; if  a statesman  gives  these  in  a felicitous  waj- 
(and  if  with  a few  light  and  humorous  illustrations  so 
much  the  better),  he  has  done  his  part.  He  will  have 
given  the  text,  the  scribes  in  the  newspapers  will  write 
the  sermon.  A statesman  ought  to  show  his  own  nature, 
and  talk  in  a palpable  way  what  is  to  him  important 
truth.  And  so  he  will  both  guide  and  benefit  the 
nation.  But  if,  especially  at  a time  when  great  ignorance 
has  an  unusual  power  in  public  affairs,  he  chooses  to 
accept  and  reiterate  the  decisions  of  that  ignorance,  he  is 
only  the  hireling  of  the  nation,  and  does  little  save  hurt  it. 

I shall  be  told  that  this  is  very  obvious,  and  that 
everybody  knows  that  2 and  2 make  4,  and  that  there  is 
no  use  in  inculcating  it.  But  I answer  that  the  lesson  is 
not  observed  in  fact ; people  do  not  do  their  political  sums 
80.  Of  all  our  political  dangers,  the  greatest  I conceive 
is  that  they  will  neglect  the  lesson.  In  plain  English, 
what  I fear  is  that  both  our  political  parties  will  bid  for 
the  support  of  the  working-man ; that  both  of  them  will 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION.  17 

promise  to  do  as  he  likes  if  he  will  only  tell  them  what  ’ i 
is;  that,  as  he  now  bolds  the  casting  vote  in  our  affairs, 
both  parties  will  beg  and  pray  him  to  give  that  vote  to 
them.  I can  conceive  of  nothing  more  corrupting  or  worse 
for  a set  of  poor  ignorant  people  than  that  two  combinations 
of  well-taught  and  rich  men  should  constantly  offer  to 
defer  to  their  decision,  and  compete  for  the  office  of  exe- 
cuting it.  Vox  populi  will  be  Vox  diaboli  if  it  is  worked 
in  that  manner. 

And,  on  the  other  hand,  my  imagination  conjures  up  a 
contrary  danger.  I can  conceive  that  questions  being 
raised  which,  if  continually  agitated,  would  combine  the 
working-men  as  a class  together,  the  higher  orders 
might  have  to  consider  whether  they  would  concede  the 
measure  that  would  settle  such  questions,  or  whether  they 
would  risk  the  effect  of  the  working-men’s  combination. 

No  doubt  the  question  cannot  be  easily  discussed  in  the 
abstract ; much  must  depend  on  the  nature  of  the 
measures  in  each  particular  case ; on  the  evil  they  would 
cause  if  conceded ; on  the  attractiveness  of  their  idea  to 
the  working-classes  if  refused.  But  in  all  cases  it  must 
be  remembered  that  a political  combination  of  the  lower 
classes,  as  such  and  for  their  own  objects,  is  an  evil  of  the 
first  magnitude  ; that  a permanent  combination  of  them 
would  make  them  (now  that  so  many  of  them  have  the 
suffrage)  supreme  in  the  country;  and  that  their  supremacy, 
in  the  state  they  now  are,  means  the  supremacy  of  iguo 


18 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


ranee  over  instruction  and  of  numbers  over  knowledge. 
So  long  as  they  are  not  tauglit  to  act  together,  there  is  a 
chance  of  this  being  averted,  and  it  can  only  be  averted 
by  the  greatest  wisdom  and  the  greatest  foresight  in  the 
higher  classes  They  must  avoid,  not  only  every  evil,  but 
every  appearance  of  evil ; while  they  have  still  the  power 
they  must  remove,  not  only  every  actual  grievance,  but, 
where  it  is  possible,  every  seeming  grievance  too  ; they 
must  willingly  concede  every  claim  which  they  can  safely 
concede,  in  order  that  they  may  not  have  to  concede 
unwillingly  some  claim  which  would  impair  the  safety  of 
the  country. 

This  advice,  too,  will  be  said  to  be  obvious  ; but  I have 
the  greatest  fear  that,  when  the  time  comes,  it  will  be 
cast  aside  as  timid  and  cowardly.  So  strong  are  the 
combative  propensities  of  man,  that  he  would  rather  fight 
a losing  battle  than  not  fight  at  all.  It  is  most  difficult 
to  persuade  peaple  that  by  fighting  they  may  strengthen 
the  enemy,  yet  that  would  be  so  here ; since  a losing 
battle  — especially  a long  and  well-fought  one — would 
have  thoroughly  taught  the  lower  orders  to  combine,  and 
would  have  left  the  higher  orders  face  to  face  with  an 
irritated,  organized,  and  superior  voting  power.  The 
ojurage  which  strengthens  an  enemy,  and  which  so  loses, 
not  only  the  present  battle,  but  many  after  battles,  is  a 
heavy  curse  to  men  and  nations. 

In  one  minor  respect,  indeed,  I think  we  may  see 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


19 


with  distinctness  the  effect  of  the  Eeform  Bill  of  18C7* 
I think  it  has  completed  one  change  which  the  Act  of 
1832  began;  it  has  completed  the  change  which  tha< 
Act  made  in  the  relation  of  the  House  of  Lords  to  the 
House  of  Commons.  As  I have  endeavoured  in  this  book 
to  explain,  the  literary  theory  of  the  English  Constitu- 
tion is  on  this  point  quite  wrong  as  usual.  According  to 
that  theory,  the  two  Houses  are  two  branches  of  the 
Legislature,  perfectly  equal  and  perfectly  distinct.  But 
before  the  Act  of  1832  they  were  not  so  distinct;  there 
was  a very  large  and  a very  strong  common  element. 
By  their  commanding  influence  in  many  boroughs  and 
counties  the  Lords  nominated  a considerable  part  of  the 
Commons;  the  majority  of  the  other  part  were  the 
richer  gentry — men  in  most  respects  like  the  Lords,  and 
sympathising  with  the  Lords.  Under  the  Constitution 
as  it  then  was  the  two  Houses  were  not  in  their  essence 
distinct ; they  were  in  their  essence  similar ; they  were, 
in  the  main,  not  Houses  of  contrasted  origin,  but  Houses 
of  like  origin.  The  predominant  part  of  both  was  taken 
from  the  same  class — from  the  English  gentry,  titled  and 
untitled.  By  the  Act  of  1832  this  was  much  altered. 
The  aristocracy  and  the  gentry  lost  their  predominance 
in  the  House  of  Commons ; that  predominance  passed  to 
the  middle  class.  The  two  Houses  then  became  distinct, 
but  then  they  ceased  to  be  co-equal.  The  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton, in  a most  remarkable  paper,  has  explained  what 


20 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


pains  he  took  to  induce  the  Lords  to  submit  to  their  nevt 
position,  and  to  submit,  time  after  time,  their  will  to  the 
will  of  the  Commons. 

The  Eeform  Act  of  1867  has,  I think,  unmistakably 
completed  the  effect  which  the  Act  of  1832  began,  but 
left  unfinished.  The  middle  class  element  has  gained 
greatly  by  the  second  change,  and  the  aristocratic  element 
has  lost  greatly.  If  you  examine  carefully  the  lists  of 
members,  especially  of  the  most  prominent  members,  of 
either  side  of  the  House,  you  will  not  find  that  they  are 
in  general  aristocratic  names.  Considering  the  power 
and  position  of  the  titled  aristocracy,  you  will  perhaps 
be  astonished  at  the  small  degree  in  which  it  contributes 
to  the  active  part  of  our  governing  Assembly.  The  spirit 
of  our  present  House  of  Commons  is  plutocratic,  not 
aristocratic ; its  most  prominent  statesmen  are  not  men 
of  ancient  descent  or  of  great  hereditary  estate  ; they 
are  men  mostly  of  substantial  means,  but  they  are  mostly, 
too,  connected  more  or  less  closely  with  the  new  trading 
wealth.  The  spirit  of  the  two  Assemblies  has  become  far 
more  contrasted  than  it  ever  was. 

The  full  effect  of  the  Eeform  Act  of  1832  was  indeed 
postponed  by  the  cause  which  I mentioned  just  now. 
The  statesmen  who  worked  the  system  which  was  put  up 
had  themselves  been  educated  under  the  system  which  was 
pulled  down.  Strangely  enough,  their  predominant 
guidance  lasted  as  long  as  the  system  which  they  created. 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


21 


Lord  Palmerston,  Lord  Eussell,  Lord  Derby,  died  or  else 
lost  their  influence  within  a year  or  two  of  1867.  The 
complete  consequences  of  the  Act  of  1832  upon  the 
House  of  Lords  could  not  be  seen  while  the  Commons 
were  subject  to  such  aristocratic  guidance.  Much  of  the 
change  which  might  have  been  expected  from  the  Act  of 
1832  was  held  in  suspense,  and  did  not  begin  till  that 
measure  had  been  followed  by  another  of  similar  and 
greater  power. 

The  work  which  the  Duke  of  Wellington  in  part 
performed  has  now,  therefore,  to  be  completed  also. 
He  met  the  half  difficulty;  we  have  to  surmount  the 
whole  one.  We  have  to  frame  such  tacit  rules,  to 
establisn  such  ruling  but  unenacted  customs,  as  will  make 
the  House  of  Lords  yield  to  the  Commons  when  and  as 
often  as  our  new  Constitution  requires  that  it  should 
yield.  I shall  be  asked.  How  often  is  that,  and  what  is 
the  test  by  which  you  know  it  ? 

I answer  that  the  House  of  Lords  must  yield  whenever 
the  opinion  of  the  Commons  is  also  the  opinion  of  the 
nation,  and  when  it  is  clear  that  the  nation  has  made 
up  its  mind.  Whether  or  not  the  nation  has  made  up  its 
mind  is  a question  to  be  decided  by  all  the  circumstances 
of  the  case,  and  in  the  common  way  in  which  all  practical 
questions  are  decided.  There  are  some  people  who  lay 
down  a sort  of  mechanical  test : they  say  the  House  of 
Lords  should  be  at  liberty  to  reject  a measure  passed  by 


22 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


the  Commons  once  or  more,  and  then  if  the  Commons 
send  it  up  again  and  again,  infer  that  the  nation  is 
determined.  But  no  important  practical  question  in  real 
life  can  be  uniformly  settled  by  a fixed  and  formal  rule 
in  this  way.  This  rule  would  prove  that  the  Lords 
might  have  rejected  the  Eeform  Act  of  1832.  Whenever 
the  nation  was  both  excited  and  determined,  such  a rule 
would  be  an  acute  and  dangerous  political  poison.  It 
would  teach  the  House  of  Lords  that  it  might  shut  its 
eyes  to  all  the  facts  of  real  life,  and  decide  simply  by  an 
abstract  formula.  If  in  1832  the  Lords  had  so  acted, 
there  would  have  been  a revolution.  Undoubtedly  there 
is  a general  truth  in  the  rule.  Whether  a Bill  has  come 
up  once  only,  or  whether  it  has  come  up  several  times,  is 
one  important  fact  in  judging  whether  the  nation  is 
determined  to  have  that  measure  enacted ; it  is  an 
indication,  but  it  is  only  one  of  the  indications.  There 
are  others  equally  decisive.  The  unanimous  voice  of  the 
people  may  be  so  strong,  and  may  be  conveyed  through 
so  many  organs,  that  it  may  be  assumed  to  be  lasting. 

Englishmen  are  so  very  miscellaneous,  that  that  which 
has  really  convinced  a great  and  varied  majority  of  them 
for  the  present  may  fairly  be  assumed  to  be  likely  to 
continue  permanently  to  convince  them.  One  sort  might 
easily  fall  into  a temporary  and  erroneous  fanaticism,  but 
all  sorts  simultaneously  are  very  unlikely  to  do  so. 

I should  venture  so  far  as  to  lay  down  for  an  approxi- 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


23 


mate  rule,  that  the  House  of  Lords  ought,  on  a first-class 
subject,  to  be  slow — very  slow — in  rejecting  a Bill  passed 
even  once  by  a large  majority  of  the  House  of  Commons. 
I would  not  of  course  lay  this  down  as  an  unvarying 
rule:  as  I have  said,  I have  for  practical  purposes  no 
belief  in  unvarying  rules.  Majorities  may  be  either 
genuine  or  fictitious,  and  if  they  are  not  genuine,  if  they 
do  not  embody  the  opinion  of  the  representative  as  well 
as  the  opinion  of  the  constituency,  no  one  would  wish  to 
have  any  attention  paid  to  them.  But  if  the  opinion  of 
the  nation  be  strong  and  be  universal,  if  it  be  really 
believed  by  members  of  Parliament,  as  well  as  by  those 
who  send  them  to  Parliament,  in  my  judgment  the  Lords 
should  yield  at  once,  and  should  not  resist  it. 

My  main  reason  is  one  which  has  not  been  much  urged. 
As  a theoretical  writer  I can  venture  to  say,  what  no  elected 
member  of  Parliament,  Conservative  or  Liberal,  can  ven- 
ture to  say,  that  I am  exceedingly  afraid  of  the  ignorant 
multitude  of  the  new  constituencies.  I wish  to  have  as 
great  and  as  compact  a power  as  possible  to  resist  it. 
But  a dissension  between  the  Lords  and  Commons  divides 
that  resisting  power ; as  I have  explained,  the  House  of 
Commons  still  mainly  represents  the  plutocracy,  the 
Lords  represent  the  aristocracy.  The  main  interest  of 
both  these  classes  is  now  identical,  which  is  to  prevent  or 
to  mitigate  the  rule  of  uneducated  members.  But  to 
prevent  it  effectually,  they  must  not  quarrel  among  them- 


2^ 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


selves  ; they  must  not  bid  one  against  the  . thcr  for  the 
aid  of  their  common  opponent.  And  this  is  precisely  the 
effect  of  a division  between  Lords  and  Commons.  The 
two  great  bodies  of  the  educated  rich  go  to  the  consti- 
tuencies to  decide  between  them,  and  the  majority  of  the 
constituencies  now  consist  of  the  uneducated  poor.  This 
cannot  be  for  the  advantage  of  anyone. 

In  doing  so  besides  the  aristocracy  forfeit  their  natural 
position — that  by  which  they  would  gain  most  power,  and 
in  which  they  would  do  most  good.  They  ought  to  be  the 
heads  of  the  plutocracy.  In  all  countries  new  wealth  is 
ready  to  worship  old  wealth,  if  old  wealth  will  only  let  it, 
and  I need  not  say  that  in  England  new  wealth  is  eager 
in  its  worship.  Satirist  after  satirist  has  told  us  how 
quick,  how  willing,  how  anxious  are  the  newly-made  rich 
to  associate  with  the  ancient  rich.  Eank  probably  in 
no  country  whatever  has  so  much  market”  value  as  it 
has  in  England  just  now.  Of  course  there  have  been  many 
countries  in  which  certain  old  families,  whether  rich  or 
poor,  were  worshipped  by  whole  populations  with  a more 
intense  and  poetic  homage ; but  I doubt  if  there  has  ever 
been  any  in  which  all  old  families  and  all  titled  families 
received  more  ready  observance  from  those  who  were  their 
equals,  perhaps  their  superiors,  in  wealth,  their  equals 
in  culture,  and  their  inferiors  only  in  descent  and  rank. 
The  possessors  of  the  “ material  ” distinctions  of  life,  as  a 
political  economist  would  class  them,  rush  to  worship 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


25 


those  who  possess  the  immaterial  distinctions.  Nothing 
can  be  more  politically  useful  than  such  homage,  if  it  be 
skilfully  used  ; no  folly  can  be  idler  than  to  repel  and 
reject  it. 

The  worship  is  the  more  politically  important  because 
it  is  the  worship  of  the  political  superior  for  the  political 
inferior.  At  an  election  the  non-titled  are  much  more 
powerful  than  the  titled.  Certain  individual  peers  have, 
from  their  great  possessions,  great  electioneering  in- 
fluence, but,  as  a whole,  the  House  of  Peers  is  not  a 
principal  electioneering  force.  It  has  so  many  poor 
men  inside  it,  and  so  many  rich  men  outside  it,  that  its 
electioneering  value  is  impaired.  Besides  it  is  in  the 
nature  of  the  curious  influence  of  rank  to  work  much 
more  on  men  singly  than  on  men  collectively ; it  is  an 
influence  which  most  men — at  least  most  Englishmen — feel 
very  much,  but  of  which  most  Englishmen  are  somewhat 
ashamed.  Accordingly,  when  any  number  of  men  are 
collected  together,  each  of  whom  worships  rank  in  his 
heart,  the  whole  body  will  patiently  hear — in  many  cases 
will  cheer  and  approve — some  rather  strong  speeches 
against  rank.  Each  man  is  a little  afraid  that  his 
‘‘  sneaking  kindness  for  a lord,”  as  Mr.  Gladstone  put  it, 
be  found  out ; he  is  not  sure  how  far  that  weakness  is 
shared  by  those  around  him.  And  thus  Englishmen 
easily  find  themselves  committed  to  anti  aristocratic  sen- 
timents which  are  the  direct  opposite  of  ^heir  real  feeling, 
3 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


and  their  collective  action  may  be  bitterly  hostile  to  rank 
while  the  secret  sentiment  of  each  separately  is  especially 
favourable  to  rank.  In  1832  the  close  boroughs,  which 
were  largely  held  by  peers,  and  were  still  more  largely 
supposed  to  be  held  by  them,  were  swept  away  with  a 
tumult  of  delight ; and  in  another  similar  time  of  great 
excitement,  the  Lords  themselves,  if  they  deserve  it,  might 
pass  away.  The  democratic  passions  gain  by  fomenting  a 
diffused  excitement,  and  by  massing  men  in  concourses ; 
the  aristocratic  sentiments  gain  by  calm  and  quiet,  and 
act  most  on  men  by  themselves,  in  their  families,  and 
when  female  influence  is  not  absent.  The  overt  elec- 
tioneering power  of  the  Lords  does  not  at  all  equal  its 
real  social  power.  The  English  plutocracy,  as  is  often 
said  of  something  yet  coarser,  must  be  humoured  not 
drove they  may  easily  be  impelled  against  the  aristo- 
cracy, though  they  respect  it  very  much ; and  as  they  are 
much  stronger  than  the  aristocracy,  they  might,  if 
angered,  even  destroy  it ; though  in  order  to  destroy  it, 
they  must  help  to  arouse  a wild  excitement  among  the 
ignorant  poor,  which,  if  once  roused,  may  not  be  easily 
calmed,  and  which  may  be  fatal  to  far  more  than  its  be- 
ginners intend. 

This  is  the  explanation  of  the  anomaly  which  puzzles 
many  clever  Lords.  They  think,  if  they  do  not  say,  “ Why 
are  we  pinned  up  here  ? Why  are  we  not  in  the  Com- 
mons, where  we  c^iuld  have  so  much  more  power  ? Why 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


27 


ia  this  nominal  rank  given  us,  at  the  price  of  substantial 
influence  ? If  we  prefer  real  weight  to  unreal  prestige, 
why  may  we  not  have  it?”  The  reply  is,  that  the  whole 
body  of  the  Lords  have  an  incalculably  greater  influence 
over  society  while  there  is  still  a House  of  Lords,  than 
they  would  have  if  the  House  of  Lords  were  abolished  ; 
and  that  though  one  or  two  clever  young  peers  might 
do  better  in  the  Commons,  the  whole  order  of  peers, 
young  and  old,  clever  and  not  clever,  is  much  better 
where  it  is.  The  selfish  instinct  of  the  mass  of  peers 
on  this  point  is  a keener  and  more  exact  judge  of 
the  real  world  than  the  fine  intelligence  of  one  or  two 
of  them. 

If  the  House  of  Peers  ever  goes,  it  will  go  in  a storm, 
and  the  storm  will  not  leave  all  else  as  it  is.  It  will  not 
destroy  the  House  of  Peers  and  leave  the  rich  young 
peers,  with  their  wealth  and  their  titles,  to  sit  in  the 
Commons.  It  would  probably  sweep  all  titles  before  it — 
at  least  all  legal  titles — and  somehow  or  other  it  would 
break  up  the  curious  system  by  which  the  estates  of  great 
families  all  go  to  the  eldest  son.  That  system  is  a very 
artificial  one ; you  may  make  a fine  argument  for  it,  but 
you  cannot  make  a loud  argument,  an  argument  which 
would  reach  and  rule  the  multitude.  The  thing  looks  like 
injustice,  and  in  a time  of  popular  passion  it  would  not 
stand.  Much  short  of  the  compulsory  equal  division  of 
the  Code  Napoleon,  stringent  clauses  might  b<i  provided 


28 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


to  obstruct  and  prevent  these  great  aggregations  of  pro- 
perty. Few  things  certainly  are  less  likely  than  a violent 
tempest  like  this  to  destroy  large  and  hereditary  estates. 
But  then,  too,  few  things  are  less  likely  than  an  outbreak 
to  destroy  the  House  of  Lords — my  point  is,  that  a 
catastrophe  which  levels  one  will  not  spare  the  other. 

I conceive,  therefore,  that  the  great  power  of  the 
House  of  Lords  should  be  exercised  very  timidly  and  very 
cautiously.  For  the  sake  of  keeping  the  headship  of  the 
plutocracy,  and  through  that  of  the  nation,  they  should 
not  offend  the  plutocracy  ; the  points  upon  which  they 
have  to  yield  are  mostly  very  minor  ones,  and  they  should 
yield  many  great  points  rather  than  risk  the  bottom  of 
their  power.  They  should  give  large  donations  out  of 
income,  if  by  so  doing  they  keep,  as  they  would  keep, 
their  capital  intact.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  guided  the 
House  of  Lords  in  this  manner  for  years,  and  nothing 
could  prosper  better  for  them  or  for  the  country,  and  the 
Lords  have  only  to  go  back  to  the  good  path  in  which  he 
directed  them. 

The  events  of  1870  caused  much  discussion  upon  life 
peerages,  and  we  have  gained  this  great  step,  that  whereas 
the  former  leader  of  the  Tory  party  in  the  Lords — Lord 
Lyndhurst — defeated  the  last  proposal  to  make  life 
peers.  Lord  Derby,  when  leader  of  that  party,  desired  to 
create  them.  As  I have  given  in  this  book  what  seemed 
to  me  good  reasons  for  making  them,  I need  not  repeat 


INTEODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


29 


those  reasons  here,  I need  only  say  how  the  notion  stands 
in  my  judgment  now. 

I cannot  look  on  life  peerages  in  the  way  in  which  some 
of  their  strongest  advocates  regard  them  ; I cannot  think 
of  them  as  a mode  in  which  a permanent  opposition  or  a 
contrast  between  the  Houses  of  Lords  and  Commons  is  to 
be  remedied.  To  be  effectual  in  that  way,  life  peerages 
must  be  very  numerous.  Now  the  House  of  Lords  will  never 
consent  to  a very  numerous  life  peerage  without  a storm ; 
they  must  be  in  terror  to  do  it,  or  they  will  not  do  it. 
And  if  the  storm  blows  strongly  enough  to  do  so  much, 
in  all  likelihood  it  will  blow  strongly  enough  to  do  much 
more.  If  the  revolution  is  powerful  enough  and  eager 
enough  to  make  an  immense  number  of  life  peers,  pro- 
bably it  will  sweep  away  the  hereditary  principle  in  the 
Upper  Chamber  entirely.  Of  course  one  may  fancy  it  to 
be  otherwise ; we  may  conceive  of  a political  storm  just 
going  to  a life  peerage  limit,  and  then  stopping  suddenly 
But  in  politics  we  must  not  trouble  ourselves  with  exceed- 
ingly exceptional  accidents : it  is  quite  difficult  enough 
to  count  on  and  provide  for  the  regular  and  plain  pro- 
babilities. To  speak  mathematically,  we  may  easily  miss 
the  permanent  course  of  the  political  curve  if  we  engross 
our  minds  with  its  cusps  and  conjugate  points. 

Nor,  on  the  other  hand,  can  I sympathise  with  the 
objection  to  life  peerages  which  some  of  the  Eadical  party 
take  and  feel.  They  think  it  will  strengthen  the  Lords, 


30 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


and  so  make  them  better  able  to  oppose  the  Commons  ^ 
they  think,  if  they  do  not  say,  “ The  House  of  Lords  is  oui 
enemy  an  i that  of  all  Liberals  ; happily  the  mass  of  it  is 
not  intellectual ; a few  clever  men  are  born  there  which 
we  cannot  help,  but  we  will  not  ^ vaccinate  ’ it  with 
genius  ; we  will  not  put  in  a set  of  clever  men  for  their 
lives  who  may  as  likely  as  not  turn  against  us.”  This 
objection  assumes  that  clever  peers  are  just  as  likely  to 
oppose  the  Commons  as  stupid  peers.  But  this  I deny. 
Most  clever  men  who  are  in  such  a good  place  as  the 
House  of  Lords  plainly  is,  will  be  very  unwilling  to  lose 
it  if  they  can  help  it ; at  the  clear  call  of  a great  duty 
they  might  lose  it,  but  only  at  such  a call.  And  it  does 
not  take  a clever  man  to  see  that  systematic  opposition  of 
the  Commons  is  the  only  thing  which  can  endanger  the 
Lords,  or  which  will  make  an  individual  peer  cease  to  be 
a peer.  The  greater  you  make  the  sense  of  the  Lords, 
the  more  they  will  see  that  their  plain  interest  is  to  make 
friends  of  the  plutocracy,  and  to  be  the  chiefs  of  it,  and 
not  to  wish  to  oppose  the  Commons  where  that  plutocracy 
rules. 

It  is  true  that  a completely  new  House  of  Lords, 
mainly  composed  of  men  of  ability,  selected  because  they 
were  able,  might  very  likely  attempt  to  make  ability  the 
predominant  power  in  the  state,  and  to  rival,  if  not  con- 
quer, tlie  House  of  Commons,  where  the  standard  of 
intelligence  is  not  much  above  the  common  English 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


average.  But  in  the  present  English  world  such  a House 
of  Lords  would  soon  lose  all  influence.  People  would  say, 
it  was  too  clever  by  half,”  and  in  an  Englishman’s  mouth 
that  means  a very  severe  censure.  The  English  people 
would  think  it  grossly  anomalous  if  their  elected  assembly 
of  rich  men  were  thwarted  by  a nominated  •assembly  of 
talkers  and  writers.  Sensible  men  of  substantial  means 
are  what  we  wish  to  be  ruled  by,  and  a peerage  of  genius 
would  not  compare  with  it  in  power. 

It  is  true,  too,  that  at  present  some  of  the  cleverest 
peers  are  not  so  ready  as  some  others  to  agree  with  the 
Commons.  But  it  is  not  unnatural  that  persons  of  high 
rank  and  of  great  ability  should  be  unwilling  to  bend  to 
persons  of  lower  rank,  and  of  certainly  not  greater  ability. 
A few  of  such  peers  (for  they  are  very  few)  might  say. 
We  had  rather  not  have  our  peerage  if  we  are  to  buy  it 
at  the  price  of  yielding.”  But  a life  peer  who  had  fought 
his  way  up  to  the  peers,  would  never  think  so.  Young 
men  who  are  born  to  rank  may  risk  it,  not  middle-aged  or 
old  men  who  have  earned  their  rank.  A moderate  number 
of  life  peers  would  almost  always  counsel  moderation  to 
the  Lords,  and  would  almost  always  be  right  in  counseL 
ling  it. 

Eecent  discussions  have  also  brought  into  curious  pro- 
minence another  part  of  the  Constitution.  I said  in  this 
book  that  it  would  very  much  siu’prise  people  if  they  were 
only  told  how  many  things  the  Queen  could  with  mi 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


consulting  Parliament,  and  it  certainly  has  so  proved,  foi 
when  the  Queen  abolished  Purchase  in  the  Army  by  an  act 
of  prerogative  (after  the  Lords  had  rejected  the  bill  fcr 
'doing  so),  there  was  a great  and  general  astonishment. 

But  this  is  nothing  to  what  the  Queen  can  by  law  do 
/without  consulting  Parliament.  Not  to  mention  other 
things,  she  could  disband  the  army  (by  law  she  cannot 
engage  more  than  a certain  number  of  men,  but  she  is 
not  obliged  to  engage  any  men);  she  could  dismiss  all 
the  officers,  from  the  General  Commanding-in-Chief  down- 
wards ; she  could  dismiss  all  the  sailors  too  ; she  could  sell 
off  all  our  ships  of  war  and  all  our  naval  stores ; she  could 
make  a peace  by  the  sacrifice  of  Cornwall,  and  begin  a 
war  for  the  conquest  of  Brittany.  She  could  make  every 
citizen  in  the  United  Kingdom,  male  or  female,  a peer ; 
she  could  make  every  parish  in  the  United  Kingdom  a 
university  she  could  dismiss  most  of  the  civil  servants ; 
she  could  pardon  all  offenders.  In  a word,  the  Queen 
could  by  prerogative  upset  all  the  action  of  civil  govern- 
ment within  the  government,  could  disgrace  the  nation 
by  a bad  war  or  peace,  and  could,  by  disbanding  our  forces, 
whether  land  or  sea,  leave  us  defenceless  against  foreign 
nations.  Why  do  we  not  fear  that  she  would  do  this,  or 
any  approach  to  it  ? 

Because  there  are  two  checks — one  ancient  and  coarse, 
the  other  modern  and  delicate.  The  first  is  the  check  of 
impeachment.  Any  Minister  who  advised  the  Queen  so  to 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


33 


ase  her  prerogative  as  to  endanger  the  safety  of  i he  realm, 
might  be  impeached  for  high  treason,  and  would  be  so 
Such  a Minister  would,  in  our  technical  law,  be  said  to  have 
levied,  or  aided  to  levy,  “ war  against  the  Queen.”  This 
counsel  to  her  so  to  use  her  prerogative  would  by  the  Judge 
be  declared  to  be  an  act  of  violence  against  herself,  and  in 
that  peculiar  but  effectual  way  the  offender  could  be  con- 
demned and  executed.  Against  all  gross  excesses  of  the 
prerogative  this  is  a sufficient  protection.  But  it  would  be 
no  protection  against  minor  mistakes ; any  error  of  judg- 
ment committed  honafide^  and  only  entailing  consequences 
which  one  person  might  say  were  good,  and  another  say 
were  bad,  could  not  be  so  punished.  It  would  be  possible 
to  impeach  any  Minister  who  disbanded  the  Queen’s  army, 
and  it  would  be  done  for  certain.  But  suppose  a Minister 
were  to  reduce  the  army  or  the  navy  much  below  the  con- 
templated strength — suppose  he  were  only  to  spend  upon 
them  one-third  of  the  amount  which  Parliament  had  per* 
mitted  him  to  spend — suppose  a Minister  of  Lord  Palmers- 
ton’s principles  were  suddenly  and  while  in  office  converted 
to  the  principles  of  Mr.  Bright  and  Mr.  Cobden,  and  were 
to  act  on  those  principles,  he  could  not  be  impeached.  The 
law  of  treason  neither  could  nor  ought  to  be  enforced  against 
an  act  which  was  an  error  of  judgment,  not  of  intention — 
which  was  in  good  faith  intended  not  to  impair  the  well- 
being of  the  State,  but  to  promote  and  augment  it. 
Against  such  misuses  of  the  prerogative  our  remedy  is  % 


34 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


change  of  Ministry.  And  in  general  this  works  very  well 
Every  Minister  looks  long  before  he  incurs  that  penalty, 
and  no  one  incurs  it  wantonly.  But,  nevertheless,  there 
are  two  defects  in  it.  The  first  is  that  it  may  not  be  a 
remedy  at  all ; it  may  be  oHly  a punishment.  A Minister 
may  risk  his  dismissal ; he  may  do  some  act  difficult  to 
undo,  and  then  all  which  may  be  left  will  be  to  remove 
and  censure  him.  And  the  second  is  that  it  is  only  one 
House  of  Parliament  which  has  much  to  say  to  this 
remedy,  such  as  it  is : the  House  of  Commons  only  can 
remove  a Minister  by  a vote  of  censure.  Most  of  the 
Ministries  for  thirty  years  have  never  possessed  the  confi- 
dence of  the  Lords,  and  in  such  cases  a vote  of  censure 
by  the  Lords  could  therefore  have  but  little  weight ; it 
would  be  simply  the  particular  expression  of  a general 
political  disapproval.  It  would  be  like  a vote  of  censure 
on  a Liberal  Grovernment  by  the  Carlton,  or  on  a Tory 
Grovernment  by  the  Eeform  Club.  And  in  no  case  has  an 
adverse  vote  by  the  Lords  the  same  decisive  effect  as  a vote 
of  the  Commons  ; the  Lower  House  is  the  ruling  and  the 
choosing  House,  and  if  a Grovernment  really  possesses  that, 
it  thoroughly  possesses  nine-tenths  of  what  it  requires. 
The  support  of  the  Lords  is  an  aid  and  a luxury ; that  of 
the  Commons  is  a strict  and  indispensable  necessary. 

These  difficulties  are  particularly  raised  by  questions  of 
foreign  policy.  On  most  domestic  subjects,  either  custom 
or  legislation  have  limited  the  use  of  the  prero^tiv^ 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


35 


The  mode  of  governing  the  country,  according  to  the 
existing  laws,  is  mostly  v/orn  into  a rut,  and  most 
Administrations  move  in  it  because  it  is  easier  to  move 
there  than  anywhere  else.  Most  political  crises — the 
decisive  votes,  which  determine  the  fate  of  Grovernment — 
are  generally  either  on  questions  of  foreign  policy  or  of 
new  laws;  and  the  questions  of  foreign  policy  come  out 
generally  in  this  way,  that  the  Grovernment  has  already 
done  something,  and  that  it  is  for  the  one  part  of  the 
Legislature  alone — for  the  House  of  Commons,  and  not 
for  the  House  of  Lords — to  say  whether  they  have  or  have 
not  forfeited  their  place  by  the  treaty  they  have  made. 

I think  every  one  must  admit  that  this  is  not  an 
arrangement  which  seems  right  on  the  face  of  it. 
Treaties  are  quite  as  important  as  most  laws,  and  to  require 
the  elaborate  assent  of  representative  assemblies  to  every 
word  of  the  law,  and  not  to  consult  them  even  as  to  the 
essence  of  the  treaty,  is  prima  fade  ludicrous.  In  the 
older  forms  of  the  English  Constitution,  this  may  have 
been  quite  right ; the  power  was  then  really  lodged  in  the 
Crown,  and  because  Parliament  met  very  seldom,  and  for 
other  reasons,  it  was  then  necessary  that,  on  a multitude 
of  points,  the  Crown  should  have  much  more  power  than 
is  amply  sufficient  for  it  at  present.  But  now  the  real 
power  is  not  in  the  Sovereign,  it  is  in  the  Prime  Minis- 
ter and  in  the  Cabinet — tliat  is  in  the  hands  of  a com- 
mittee appointed  by  Parliament,  and  of  the  chairman  of 


36 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


that  committee.  Now,  beforehand,  no  one  would  have 
ventured  to  suggest  that  a committee  of  Parliament  on 
Foreign  relations  should  be  able  to  commit  the  country 
to  the  greatest  international  obligations  without  consulting 
either  Parliament  or  the  country.  No  other  select  com- 
mittee has  any  comparable  power ; and  considering  how 
carefully  we  have  fettered  and  limited  the  powers  of  all 
other  subordinate  authorities,  our  allowing  so  much  dis- 
cretionary power  on  matters  peculiarly  dangerous  and 
peculiarly  delicate  to  rest  in  the  sole  charge  of  one  secret 
committee  is  exceedingly  strange.  No  doubt  it  may  be 
beneficial ; many  seeming  anomalies  are  so,  but  at  first 
sight  it  does  not  look  right. 

I confess  that  I should  see  no  advantage  in  it  if  our  two 
Chambers  were  sufficiently  homogeneous  and  sufficiently 
harmonious.  On  the  contrary,  if  those  two  Chambers 
were  as  they  ought  to  be,  I should  believe  it  to  be  a great 
defect.  If  the  Administration  had  in  both  Houses  a 
majority — not  a mechanical  majority  ready  to  accept  any- 
thing, but  a fair  and  reasonable  one,  predisposed  to  think 
the  Government  right,  but  not  ready  to  find  it  to  be  so 
in  the  face  of  facts  and  in  opposition  to  whatever  might 
occur ; if  a good  Government  were  thus  placed,  I should 
think  it  decidedly  better  that  the  agreements  of  the  Ad- 
ministration with  foreign  powers  should  be  submitted  to 
Parliament.  They  would  then  receive  that  which  is  best 
for  all  arrangements  of  business,  an  understanding  and 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


SI 


eympatliising  criticism,  but  still  a criticism.  The  ma- 
jority of  the  Legislature  being  well  disposed  to  the 
Government,  would  not  “find”  against  it  except  it  had 
reallj  committed  some  big  and  plain  mistake.  But  if 
the  Government  had  made  such  a mistake,  certainly  the 
majority  of  the  Legislature  would  find  against  it.  In 
a country  fit  for  Parliamentary  institutions,  the  par- 
tizanship  of  members  of  the  Legislature  never  comes 
in  manifest  opposition  to  the  plain  interest  of  the  nation  ; 
if  it  did,  the  nation  being  (as  are  all  nations  capable 
of  Parliamentary  institutions)  constantly  attentive  to 
public  affairs,  would  inflict  on  them  the  maximum  Par- 
liamentary penalty  at  the  next  election,  and  at  many 
future  elections.  It  would  break  their  career.  No  Eng- 
lish majority  dare  vote  for  an  exceedingly  bad  treaty 
it  would  rather  desert  its  own  leader  than  ensure  its  own 
ruin.  And  an  English  minority,  inheriting  a long  expe- 
rience of  Parliamentary  affairs,  would  not  be  exceedingly 
ready  to  reject  a treaty  made  with  a foreign  Government. 
The  leaders  of  an  English  Opposition  are  very  conversant 
with  the  schoolboy  maxim,  “ Two  can  play  at  that  fun.” 
They  know  that  the  next  time  they  are  in  office  the  same 
sort  of  sharp  practice  may  be  used  against  them,  and  there- 
fore they  will  not  use  it.  So  strong  is  this  predisposition, 
that  not  long  since  a subordinate  member  of  the  Opposi- 
tion declared  that  the  “ front  benches  ” of  the  two  sides  of 
the  House* — that  is,  the  leaders  of  the  Government  and 


38 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


the  leaders  of  the  Opposition — were  in  constant  tacit 
league  to  suppress  the  objections  of  independent  members. 
And  what  he  said  is  often  quite  true.  There  are  often 
seeming  objections  which  are  not  real  objections,  at  least, 
which  are,  in  the  particular  cases,  outweighed  by  counter- 
considerations;  and  these  “independent  members”  having 
no  real  responsibility,  not  being  likely  to  be  hurt  them- 
selves if  they  make  a mistake,  are  sure  to  blurt  out,  and 
to  want  to  act  upon.  But  the  responsible  heads  of  the 
party  who  may  have  to  decide  similar  things,  or  even  the 
same  things,  themselves  will  not  permit  it.  They  refuse, 
out  of  interest  as  well  as  out  of  patriotism,  to  engage  the 
country  in  a permanent  foreign  scrape,  to  secure  for  them- 
selves and  their  party  a momentary  home  advantage.  Ac- 
cordingly, a Government  which  negotiated  a treaty  would 
feel  that  its  treaty  would  be  subject  certainly  to  a scrutiny, 
but  still  to  a candid  and  a lenient  scrutiny ; that  it  would 
go  before  judges,  of  whom  the  majority  were  favourable, 
and  among  whom  the  most  influential  part  of  the  minority 
were  in  this  case  much  opposed  to  excessive  antagonism. 
And  this  seems  to  be  the  best  position  in  which  negoti- 
ators can  be  placed,  namely,  that  they  should  be  sure  to 
have  to  account  to  considerate  and  fair  persons,  but  not 
to  have  to  account  to  inconsiderate  and  unfair  ones. 

At  present  the  Government  which  negotiates  a treaty 
can  hardly  be  said  to  be  accountable  to  any  one.  It  is 
sure  to  be  subjected  to  vague  censm^e.  Benjamin  Franklin 


INTRODaCTIOJS-  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


39 


riaid,  I have  never  known  a peace  made,  even  the  most 
advantageous,  that  was  not  censured  as  inadequate,  and  the 
makers  condemned  as  injudicious  or  corrupt.  ‘ Blessed 
are  the  peace-makers  ’ is,  I suppose,  to  be  understood  in 
the  other  world,  for  in  this  they  are  frequently  cursed.” 
And  this  is  very  often  the  view  taken  now  in  England  of 
treaties.  There  being  nothing  practical  in  the  Opposition 
— nothing  likely  to  hamper  them  hereafter,  the  leaders  of 
Opposition  are  nearly  sure  to  suggest  every  objection. 
The  thing  is  done  and  cannot  be  undone,  and  the  most 
natural  wish  of  the  Opposition  leaders  is  to  prove  that  if 
they  had  been  in  oflSce,  and  it  therefore  had  been  theirs 
to  do  it,  they  could  have  done  it  much  better.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  is  quite  possible  that  there  may  be  no  real 
criticism  on  a treaty  at  all ; or  the  treaty  has  been  made 
by  the  Government,  and  as  it  cannot  be  unmade  by  any 
one,  the  Opposition  may  not  think  it  worth  while  to  say 
much  about  it.  The  Government,  therefore,  is  never 
certain  of  any  criticism;  on  the  contrary,  it  has  a good 
chance  of  escaping  criticism;  but  if  there  be  any  criti- 
cism the  Government  must  expect  it  to  be  bitter,  sharp, 
and  captious — made  as  an  irresponsible  objector  would 
make  it,  and  not  as  a responsible  statesman,  who  may  have 
to  deal  with  a difficulty  if  he  make  it,  and  therefore  will 
be  cautious  how  he  says  anything  which  may  make  it. 

This  is  what  happens  in  common  cases ; and  in  the  un- 
common— the  ninety-ninth  case  in  a hundred — in  which 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


40 

the  Opposition  hoped  to  turn  out  the  Government  because 
of  the  alleged  badness  of  the  treaty  they  have  made,  the 
criticism  is  sure  to  be  of  the  most  undesirable  character, 
and  to  say  what  is  most  offensive  to  foreign  nations.  All 
the  practised  acumen  of  anti-Government  writers  and 
speakers  is  sure  to  be  engaged  in  proving  that  England 
has  been  imposed  upon — that,  as  was  said  in  one  case, 
‘‘The  moral  and  the  intellectual  qualities  have  been 
divided ; that  out  negotiation  had  the  moral,  and  the 
negotiation  on  the  other  side  the  intellectual,”  and  so  on. 
The  whole  pitch  of  party  malice  is  then  expended,  be- 
cause there  is  nothing  to  check  the  party  in  opposition. 
The  treaty  has  been  made,  and  though  it  may  be  censui'ed, 
and  the  party  which  made  it  ousted,  yet  ^ the  difficulty 
it  was  meant  to  cure  is  cured,  and  the  opposing  party, 
if  it  takes  office,  will  not  have  that  difficulty  to  deal 
with. 

In  abstract  theory  these  defects  in  our  present  practice 
would  seem  exceedingly  great,  but  in  practice  they  are 
not  so.  English  statesmen  and  English  parties  have  reallj 
a great  patriotism,  they  can  rarely  be  persuaded  even  bj 
their  passions  or  their  interest  to  do  anything  contrary  to 
the  real  interest  of  England,  or  anything  which  would 
lower  England  in  the  eyes  of  foreign  nations.  And  they 
would  seriously  hurt  themselves  if  they  did.  But  still 
these  are  the  real  tendencies  of  our  present  practice,  and 
these  are  only  prevented  by  qualities  in  the  nation  and 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


41 


qualities  in  our  statesmen,  which  will  just  as  much  exist 
if  we  change  our  practice. 

It  certainly  would  be  in  many  ways  advantageous  to 
change  it.  If  we  require  that  in  some  form  the  assent  of 
Parliament  shall  be  given  to  such  treaties,  we  should  have 
a real  discussion  prior  to  the  making  of  such  treaties. 
We  should  have  the  reasons  for  the  treaty  plainly  stated, 
and  also  the  reasons  against  it.  At  present,  as  we  have  seen, 
the  discussion  is  unreal.  The  thing  is  done  and  cannot 
be  altered ; and  what  is  said  often  ought  not  to  be  said  be- 
cause it  IS  captious,  and  what  is  not  said  ought  as  often  to 
be  said  because  it  is  material.  We  should  have  a manlier 
and  plainer  way  of  dealing  with  foreign  policy,  if  Mi- 
nisters were  obliged  to  explain  clearly  their  foreign 
contracts  before  they  were  valid,  just  as  they  have  to 
explain  their  domestic  proposals  before  they  can  become 
laws. 

The  objections  to  this  are,  as  far  as  I know,  three,  and 
three  only. 

1st.  That  it  would  not  be  always  desirable  for  Ministers 
to  state  clearly  the  motives  which  induced  them  to  agree 
to  foreign  compacts.  Treaties,”  it  is  said,  “ are  in  one 
great  respect  different  from  laws,  they  concern  not  only 
the  Grovernment  which  binds,  the  nation  so  bound,  but  a 
third  party  too — a foreign  country — and  the  feelings  of 
that  country  are  to  be  considered  as  well  as  our  own. 
And  that  foreign  country  will,  probably,  in  the  present 
4 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


42 

iitate  of  the  world  be  a despotic  one,  where  discussion  is 
not  practised,  where  it  is  not  understood,  where  the  expres- 
sions of  different  speakers  are  not  accurately  weighed,  where 
undue  offence  may  easily  be  given.”  This  objection  might 
be  easily  avoided  by  requiring  that  the  discussion  upon 
treaties  in  Parliament  like  that  discussion  in  the  American 
Senate  should  be  “ in  secret  session,”  and  that  no  report 
should  be  published  of  it.  But  I su^/uld,  for  my  own 
part,  be  rather  disposed  to  risk  a public  debate.  Despotic 
nations  now  cannot  understand  England  ; it  is  to  them  an 
anomaly  chartered  by  Providence  ;”  they  have  been  time 
out  of  mind  puzzled  by  its  institutions,  vexed  at  its  states- 
men, and  angry  at  its  newspapers.  A little  more  of  such 
perplexity  and  such  vexation  does  not  seem  to  me  a great 
evil.  And  if  it  be  meant  as  it  often  is  meant,  that  the 
whole  truth  as  to  treaties  cannot  be  spoken  out,  I answer, 
that  neither  can  the  whole  truth  as  to  laws.  All  im- 
portant laws  affect  large  vested  interests ;”  they  touch 
great  sources  of  political  strength;  and  these  great  interests 
require  to  be  treated  as  delicately,  and  with  as  nice  a 
manipulation  of  language,  as  the  feelings  of  any  foreign 
country.  A Parliamentary  Minister  is  a man  trained  by 
elaborate  practice  not  to  blurt  out  crude  things,  and  an 
English  Parliament  is  an  assembly  which  particularly 
dislikes  anything  gauche  or  anything  imprudent.  They 
would  still  more  dislike  it  if  it  hurt  themselves  and  the 
x^untry  as  well  as  the  speaker. 

I am.  too,  disposed  to  deny  entirely  that  there  can  be  anv 


INTKODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


43 


treaty  for  which  adequate  reasons  cannot  be  given  to  the 
English  people,  which  the  English  people  ought  to  make. 
A great  deal  of  the  reticence  of  diplomacy  had,  I think 
history  shows,  much  better  be  spoken  out.  The  worst 
families  are  those  in  which  the  members  never  really 
speak  their  minds  to  one  another;  they  maintain  an 
atmosphere  of  unreality,  and  everyone  always  lives  in  an 
atmosphere  of  suppressed  ill-feeling.  It  is  the  same  with 
nations.  The  parties  concerned  would  almost  always  be 
better  for  hearing  the  substantial  reasons  which  induced 
the  negotiators  to  make  the  treaty,  and  the  negotiators 
would  do  their  woik  much  better,  for  half  the  ambiguities 
in  treaties  are  caused  by  the  negotiators  not  liking  the 
fact  or  not  taking  the  pains  to  put  their  own  meaning 
distinctly  before  their  own  minds.  And  they  would  be 
obliged  to  make  it  plain  if  they  had  to  defend  it  and 
argue  on  it  before  a great  assembly. 

Secondly,  it  may  be  objected  to  the  change  suggested 
that  Parliament  is  not  always  sitting,  and  that  if  treaties 
required  its  assent,  it  might  have  to  be  sometimes  sum- 
moned out  of  season,  or  the  treaties  would  have  to  be 
delayed.  And  this  is  as  far  as  it  goes  a just  objection,  but 
I do  not  imagine  that  it  goes  far.  The  great  bulk  of 
treaties  could  wait  a little  without  harm,  and  in  the  very 
few  cases  when  urgent  haste  is  necessary,  an  Aut/Umn 
session  of  Parliament  could  well  be  justified,  for  the 
occasion  must  be  of  grave  and  critical  importance. 

Thirdly,  it  may  be  said  that  if  we  required  the  consent 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


of  botli  Houses  of  Parliament  to  foreign  treaties  before 
Lbey  were  valid  we  should  much  augment  the  power  of 
the  House  of  Lords.  And  this  is  also,  I think,  a just 
objection  as  far  as  it  goes.  The  House  of  Lords,  as  it 
cannot  turn  out  the  Ministry  for  making  treaties,  has  in  no 
case  a decisive  weight  in  foreign  policy,  though  its  debates 
on  them  are  often  excellent ; and  there  is  a real  danger  at 
present  in  giving  it  such  weight.  They  are  not  under 
the  same  guidance  as  the  House  of  Commons.  In  the 
House  of  Commons,  of  necessity,  the  Ministry  has  a 
majority,  and  the  majority  will  agree  to  the  treaties  the 
leaders  have  made  if  they  fairly  can.  They  will  not  be 
anxious  to  disagree  with  them.  But  the  majority  of  the 
House  of  Lords  may  always  be,  and  has  lately  been 
generally  an  opposition  majority,  and  therefore  the  treaty 
may  be  submitted  to  critics  exactly  pledged  to  opposite 
views.  It  might  be  like  submitting  the  design  of  an 
architect  known  to  hold  “ mediaeval  principles  ” to  a com- 
mittee wedded  to  “ classical  principles.” 

Still,  upon  the  whole,  I think  the  augmentation  of  the 
power  of  the  Peers  might  be  risked  without  real  fear  of 
serious  harm.  Our  present  practice,  as  has  been  ex- 
plained, only  works  because  of  the  good  sense  of  those 
by  whom  it  is  worked,  and  the  new  practice  would  have  to 
rely  on  a similar  good  sense  and  practicality  too.  The 
House  of  Lords  must  deal  with  the  assent  to  treaties  as 
they  do  with  the  assent  to  laws ; they  must  defer  to  the 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


45 


voice  of  the  country  and  the  authority  of  the  Commona 
even  in  cases  where  their  own  judgment  might  guide  them 
otherwise.  In  very  vital  treaties  probably,  being  English- 
men, they  would  be  of  the  same  mind  as  the  rest  of 
Englishmen.  If  in  such  cases  they  showed  a reluctance 
to  act  as  the  people  wished,  they  would  have  the  same 
lesson  taught  them  as  on  vital  and  exciting  questions 
of  domestic  legislation,  and  the  case  is  not  so  likely  to 
happen,  for  on  these  internal  and  organic  questions  the 
interest  and  the  feeling  of  the  Peers  is  often  presumably 
vipposed  to  that  of  other  classes — they  may  be  anxious 
not  to  relinquish  the  very  power  which  other  classes  are 
anxious  to  acquire ; but  in  foreign  policy  there  is  no 
similar  antagonism  of  interest — a peer  and  a non-peer 
have  presumably  in  that  matter  the  same  interest  and  the 
same  wishes. 

Probably,  if  it  were  considered  to  be  desirable  to  give 
to  Parliament  a more  direct  control  over  questions  of 
foreign  policy  than  it  possesses  now,  the  better  way  would 
be  not  to  require  a formal  vote  to  the  treaty  clause  by 
clause.  This  would  entail  too  much  time,  and  would 
lead  to  unnecessary  changes  in  minor  details.  It  would 
be  enough  to  let  the  treaty  be  laid  upon  the  table  of 
both  Houses,  say  for  fourteen  days,  and  to  acquire 
validity  unless  objected  to  by  one  House  or  other  before 
that  interval  had  expired. 


iQ 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


II. 

This  is  all  which  I think  I need  say  on  the  domeBtio 
events  which  have  changed,  or  suggested  changes,  in  the 
English  Constitution  since  this  book  was  written.  But 
there  are  also  some  foreign  events  which  have  illustrated 
it,  and  of  these  I should  like  to  say  a few  words. 

Naturally,  the  most  striking  of  these  illustrative 
changes  comes  from  France.  Since  1789  France  has 
always  been  trying  political  experiments,  from  which 
others  may  profit  much,  though  as  yet  she  herself  has  pro- 
fited little.  She  is  now  trying  one  singularly  illustrative 
of  the  English  Constitution.  When  the  first  edition  of 
this  book  was  published  I had  great  difficulty  in  persuad- 
ing many  people  that  it  was  possible  for  a non-monar- 
chical  state,  for  the  real  chief  of  the  practical  Executive 
— the  Premier  as  we  should  call  him — to  be  nominated 
and  to  be  removable  by  the  vote  of  the  National  As- 
sembly. The  United  States  and  its  copies  were  the 
only  present  and  familiar  Eepublics,  and  in  these  the 
system  was  exactly  opposite.  The  Executive  was  there 
appointed  by  the  people  as  the  Legislative  was  too.  No 
conspicuous  example  of  any  other  sort  of  Eepublic  then 
existed.  But  now  France  has  given  an  example — M. 
Thiers  is  (with  one  exception)  just  the  chef  du  pouvoir 
exScutif  that  I endeavoured  more  than  once  in  this  book 
to  describe.  He  is  appointed  by  and  is  removable  by  the 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


47 


Assembly,  He  comes  down  and  speaks  in  it  just  as  oui 
Premier  does ; he  is  responsible  for  managing  it  just  as 
our  Premier  is.  No  one  can  any  longer  doubt  the  possi- 
bility of  a republic  in  which  the  Executive  and  the  I^egis- 
lative  authorities  were  united  and  fixed;  no  one  can 
assert  such  union  to  be  the  incommunicable  attribute  of 
a Constitutional  Monarchy. 

But,  unfortunately,  we  can  as  yet  only  infer  from  this 
experiment  that  such  a constitution  is  possible ; we  can- 
not as  yet  say  whether  it  will  be  bad  or  good.  The 
circumstances  are  very  peculiar,  and  that  in  three  ways. 
First,  the  trial  of  a specially  Parliamentary  Eepublic,  of 
a Eepublic  where  Parliament  appoints  the  Minister,  is 
made  in  a nation  which  has,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  no 
peculiar  aptitude  for  Parliamentary  Grovernment ; which 
has  possibly  a peculiar  inaptitude  for  it.  In  the  last  but 
one  of  these  essays  I have  tried  to  describe  one  of  the 
mental  conditions  of  Parliamentary  Grovernment,  which 
I call  “ rationality,”  by  which  I do  not  mean  reasoning 
power,  but  rather  the  power  of  hearing  the  reasons  of 
others,  of  comparing  them  quietly  with  one’s  own  reasons, 
and  then  being  guided  by  the  result.  But  a French 
Assembly  is  not  easy  to  reason  with.  'Every  Assembly  k 
divided  into  parties  and  into  sections  of  parties,  and  in 
France  each  party,  almost  every  section  of  a party, 
begins  not  to  clamour  but  to  scream,  and  to  scream  as 
only  Frenchmen  can,  as  soon  as  it  hears  anything  which 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


18 

it  particularly  dislikes.  With  an  Assembly  in  tliia 
temper,  real  discussion  is  impossible,  and  Parliamentary 
Government  is  impossible  too,  because  the  Parliament 
can  neither  choose  men  nor  measures.  The  French 
assemblies  under  the  Eestored  Monarchy  seem  to  have 
been  quieter,  probably  because  being  elected  from  a 
limited  constituency  they  did  not  contain  so  many  sec- 
tions of  opinion ; they  had  fewer  irritants  and  fewer 
species  of  irritability.  But  the  assemblies  of  the  ’48 
Eepublic  were  disorderly  in  the  extreme.  I saw  the  last 
myself,  and  can  certify  that  steady  discussion  upon  a 
critical  point  was  not  possible  in  it.  There  was  not  an 
audience  willing  to  hear.  The  Assembly  now  sitting  at 
Versailles  is  undoubtedly  also,  at  times,  most  tumultuous, 
and  a Parliamentary  Government  in  which  it  governs 
must  be  under  a peculiar  difficulty  because  as  a sovereign 
it  is  unstable,  capricious,  and  unruly. 

The  difficulty  is  the  greater  because  there  is  no  check, 
or  little,  from  the  French  nation  upon  the  Assembly.  The 
French,  as  a nation,  do  not  care  for  or  appreciate  Par- 
liamentary Government.  I have  endeavoured  to  explain 
how  difficult  it  is  for  inexperienced  mankind  to  take 
to  such  a government ; how  much  more  natural,  that  is, 
how  much  more  easy  to  uneducated  men  is  loyalty  to  a 
monarch.  A nation  which  does  not  expect  good  from  a 
Parliament,  cannot  check  or  punish  a Parliament.  France 
expects,  I fear,  too  little  from  her  Parliaments  ever  to  get 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION.  49 


what  she  ought.  Now  that  the  suflfrage  is  universal,  the 
average  intellect  and  the  average  culture  of  the  consti- 
tuent bodies  are  excessively  low;  and  even  such  mind 
and  culture  as  there  is  has  long  been  enslaved  to  authority: 
the  French  peasant  cares  more  for  standing  well  with  his 
present  prefet  than  for  anything  else  whatever ; he  is  far 
too  ignorant  to  check  and  watch  his  Parliament,  and  far 
too  timid  to  think  of  doing  either,  if  the  executive  autho- 
rity nearest  to  him  did  not  like  it.  The  experiment  of  a 
strictly  Parliamentary  Eepublic — of  a Eepublic  where  the 
Parliament  appoints  the  Executive — is  being  tried  in 
France  at  an  extreme  disadvantage,  because  in  France 
a Parliament  is  unusually  likely  to  be  bad,  and  unusually 
likely  also  to  be  free  enough  to  show  its  badness. 

Secondly,  the  present  polity  of  France  is  not  a copy  of 
the  whole  effective  part  of  the  British  Constitution,  but 
only  of  a part  of  it.  By  our  Constitution  nominally  the 
Queen,  but  really  the  Prime  Minister,  has  the  power  of 
dissolving  the  Assembly.  But  M.  Thiers  has  no  such 
power;  and  therefore,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  I 
believe,  the  policy  would  soon  become  unmanageable.  The 
result  would  be,  as  I have  tried  to  explain,  that  the  Assem- 
bly would  be  always  changing  its  Ministry,  that  having  no 
reason  to  fear  the  penalty  which  that  change  so  often 
brings  in  England,  they  would  be  ready  to  make  it  once  a 
month.  Caprice  is  the  characteristic  vice  of  miscellaneoug 
assemblies,  and  without  some  check  their  selection  would 


50 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION 


be  unceasingly  mutable.  This  peculiar  danger  of  the 
present  Constitution  of  France  has,  however,  been  pre- 
vented by  its  peculiar  circumstances.  The  Assembly 
have  not  been  inclined  to  remove  M.  Thiers,  because  in 
their  lamentable  present  position  they  could  not  replace 
M.  Thiers.  He  has  a monopoly  of  the  necessary  reputa- 
tion. It  is  the  Empire — the  Empire  which  he  always 
opposed — that  has  done  him  tliis  kindness.  For  twenty 
years  no  great  political  reputation  could  arise  in  France. 
The  Emperor  governed,  and  no  one  member  could  show  a 
capacity  for  government.  M.  Eouher,  though  of  vast  real 
ability,  was  in  the  popular  idea  only  the  Emperor’s  agent ; 
and  even  had  it  been  otherwise,  M.  Eouher,  the  one 
great  man  of  Imperialism,  could  not  have  been  selected 
as  a head  of  the  Grovernment,  at  a moment  of  the  greatest 
reaction  against  the  Empire.  Of  the  chiefs  before  the 
twenty  years’  silence,  of  the  eminent  men  known  to  be 
able  to  handle  Parliaments  and  to  govern  Parliaments,  M. 
Thiers  was  the  only  one  still  physically  able  to  begin 
again  to  do  so.  The  miracle  is,  that  at  seventy-four  even 
he  should  still  be  able.  As  no  other  great  chief  of  the 
Parliament  regime  existed,  M.  Thiers  is  not  only  the  best 
choice,  but  the  only  choice.  If  he  were  taken  away,  it 
would  be  most  difficult  to  make  any  other  choice,  and 
that  difficulty  keeps  him  where  he  is.  At  every  crisis 
the  Assembly  feels  that  after  M.  Thieis  ‘Hhe  deluge,”  and 
he  lives  upon  that  feeling.  A change  of  the  Presidentf 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


61 


though  legally  simple,  is  in  practice  all  but  impossible ; 
because  all  know  that  such  a change  might  be  a change, 
not  only  of  the  President,  but  of  much  more  too : that 
very  probably  it  might  be  a change  of  the  polity — that  it 
might  bring  in  a Monarchy  or  an  Empire. 

Lastly,  by  a natural  consequence  of  the  position^  M. 
Thiers  does  not  govern  as  a Parliamentary  Premier 
governs.  He  is  not,  he  boasts  that  he  is  not,  the  head  of 
a party.  On  the  contrary,  being  the  one  person  essential 
to  all  parties,  he  selects  Ministers  from  all  parties,  he 
co^rftructs  a cabinet  in  which  no  one  Minister  agrees  with 
any  other  in  anything,  and  with  all  the  members  of  which 
he  himself  frequently  disagrees.  The  selection  is  quite 
in  his  hand.  Ordinarily  a Parliamentary  Premier  cannot 
choose  ; he  is  brought  in  by  a party,  he  is  maintained  in 
office  by  a party ; and  that  party  requires  that  as  they 
aid  him,  he  shall  aid  them ; that  as  they  give  him  the 
very  best  thing  in  the  State,  he  shall  give  them  the 
next  best  things.  But  M.  Thiers  is  under  no  such 
restriction.  He  can  choose  as  he  likes,  and  does  choose. 
Neither  in  the  selection  of  his  Cabinet  nor  in  tne 
management  of  the  Chamber,  is  M.  Thiers  guided  as  a 
similar  person  in  common  circumstances  would  have  to 
be  guided  He  is  the  exception  of  a moment ; he  is  not 
the  example  of  a lasting  condition. 

For  these  reasons,  though  we  may  use  the  present  Con- 
stitution of  France  as  a useful  aid  to  our  imaginations, 


52 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


in  conceiving  of  a purely  Parliamentary  republic,  of  a 
monarchy  minus  the  monarch,  we  must  not  think  of  it 
as  much  more.  It  is  too  singular  in  its  nature  and  too 
peculiar  in  its  accidents  to  be  a guide  to  anything  except 
itself. 

In  this  essay  I have  made  many  remarks  on  the 
American  constitution,  in  comparison  with  the  English ; 
and  as  to  the  American  constitution  we  have  had  a whole 
world  of  experience  since  I first  wrote.  My  great  object 
was  to  contrast  the  office  of  President  as  an  executive 
officer  and  to  compare  it  with  that  of  a Prime  Minister  ; 
and  I devoted  much  space  to  showing  that  in  one  prin- 
cipal respect  the  English  system  is  by  far  the  best.  The 
English  Premier  being  appointed  by  the  selection,  and 
being  removable  at  the  pleasure,  of  the  preponderant 
Legislative  Assembly,  is  sure  to  be  able  to  rely  on  that 
assembly.  If  he  wants  legislation  to  aid  his  policy  he  can 
obtain  that  legislation ; he  can  carry  out  that  policy. 
But  the  American  President  has  no  similar  security.  He 
is  elected  in  one  way,  at  one  time,  and  Congress  (no 
matter  which  House)  is  elected  in  another  way,  at  another 
time.  The  two  have  nothing  to  bind  them  together,  and, 
in  matter  of  fact,  they  continually  disagree. 

This  was  written  in  the  time  of  Mr.  Lincoln,  when 
Congress,  the  President,  and  all  the  North  were  united  as 
one  man  in  the  war  against  the  South.  There  was  tlien 
no  patent  instance  of  mere  disunion.  But  between  the 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


53 


time  when  the  essays  were  first  written  in  the  “ Fort- 
nightly,” and  their  subsequent  junction  into  a book,  Mr. 
Lincoln  was  assassinated,  and  Mr.  Johnson,  the  Vice- 
President,  became  President,  and  so  continued  for  nearly 
four  years.  At  such  a time  the  characteristic  evils  of  the 
Presidential  system  were  shown  most  conspicuously.  The 
President  and  the  Assembly,  so  far  from  being  (as  it  is 
essential  to  good  government  that  they  should  be)  on  terms 
of  close  union,  were  not  on  terms  of  common  courtesy. 
So  far  from  being  capable  of  a continuous  and  concerted 
co-operation  they  were  all  the  while  trying  to  thwart  one 
another.  He  had  one  plan  for  the  pacification  of  the 
south  and  they  another : they  would  have  nothing  to  say 
to  his  plans,  and  he  vetoed  their  plans  as  long  as  the 
Constitution  permitted,  and  when  they  were,  in  spite  of 
him,  carried,  he,  as  far  as  he  could  (and  this  was  very 
much),  embarrassed  them  in  action.  The  quarrel  in  most 
countries  would  have  gone  beyond  the  law,  and  come  to 
blows ; even  in  America,  the  most  law-loving  of  countries, 
it  went  as  far  as  possible  within  the  law.  Mr.  Johnson 
described  the  most  popular  branch  of  the  legislature — 
the  House  ofEepresentatives — as  a body  hanging  on  the 
verge  of  government ; ” and  that  House  impeached  him 
criminally,  in  the  hope  that  in  that  way  they  might  get 
rid  of  him  civilly.  Nothing  could  be  so  conclusive 
against  the  American  Constitution,  as  a Constitution, 
as  that  incident.  A hostile  legislature  and  a hostile 


54 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


executive  were  so  tied  together,  that  the  legislature  tried^ 
and  tried  in  vain,  to  rid  itself  of  the  executive  by 
accusing  it  of  illegal  practices.  The  legislature  was  so 
afraid  of  the  President’s  legal  power,  that  it  unfairly 
accused  him  of  acting  beyond  the  law.  And  the  blame 
thus  cast  on  the  American  Constitution  is  so  much  praise 
to  be  given  to  the  American  political  character.  Few 
nations,  perhaps  scarcely  any  nation,  could  have  borne 
such  a trial  so  easily  and  so  perfectly. 

This  was  the  most  striking  instance  of  disunion  between 
the  President  and  the  Congress  that  has  ever  yet  occurred, 
and  which  probably  will  ever  occur.  Probably  for  very 
many  years  the  United  States  will  have  great  and  painful 
reason  to  remember,  that  at  the  moment  of  all  their 
history,  when  it  was  most  important  to  them  to  collect  and 
concentrate  all  the  strength  and  wisdom  of  their  policy 
on  the  pacification  of  the  South,  that  policy  was  divided 
by  a strife  in  the  last  degree  unseemly  and  degrading. 
But  it  will  be  for  a competent  historian  hereafter  to  trace 
out  this  accurately  and  in  detail ; the  time  is  yet  too 
recent,  and  I cannot  pretend  that  I know  enough  to  do 
so.  I cannot  venture  myself  to  draw  the  full  lessons 
from  these  events  ; I can  only  predict  that  when  they  are 
drawn,  those  lessons  will  be  most  important  and  most 
interesting. 

There  is,  however,  one  series  of  events  which  have 
happened  in  America  since  the  beginning  of  the  civil  wai*, 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


55 


and  since  the  first  publication  of  these  essays,  on  which  I 
should  wish  to  say  something  in  detail — I mean  the 
financial  events.  These  lie  within  the  scope  of  my  pecu 
liar  studies,  and  it  is  comparatively  easy  to  judge  of  them, 
since  whatever  may  be  the  case  with  refined  statistical 
reasoning,  the  great  results  of  money  matters  speak  to 
and  interest  all  mankind.  And  every  incident  in  this 
part  of  American  financial  history  exemplifies  the  con- 
trast between  a Parliamentary  and  a Presidential  Grovern- 
ment. 

The  distinguishing  quality  of  Parliamentary  Govern- 
ment is,  that  in  each  stage  of  a public  transaction  there  is 
a discussion  ; that  the  public  assist  at  this  discussion  ; that 
it  can,  through  Parliament,  turn  out  an  administration 
which  is  not  doing  as  it  likes,  and  can  put  in  an  adminis- 
tration which  will  do  as  it  likes.  But  the  characteristic 
of  a Presidential  Government  is,  in  a multitude  of  cases, 
that  there  is  no  such  discussion;  that  when  there  is  a 
discussion  the  fate  of  Government  does  not  turn  upon  it, 
and,  therefore,  the  people  do  not  attend  to  it ; that  upon 
the  whole  the  administration  itself  is  pretty  much  doing 
as  it  likes,  and  neglecting  as  it  likes,  subject  always  to 
the  check  that  it  must  not  too  much  offend  the  mass  of 
the  nation.  The  nation  commonly  does  not  attend,  but  if 
by  gigantic  blunders  you  make  it  attend,  it  will  remember 
it  and  turn  you  out  when  its  time  comes;  it  will  show  you 
that  your  power  is  short,  and  so  on  the  instant  weaken 


56 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


that  power ; it  will  make  your  present  life  in  office  im* 
bearable  and  uncomfortable  by  the  hundred  modes  in 
which  a free  people  can,  without  ceasing,  act  upon  the 
rulers  which  it  elected  yesterday,  and  will  have  to  reject 
or  re-elect  to-morrow. 

In  finance  the  most  striking  effect  in  America  has,  on 
the  first  view  of  it,  certainly  been  good.  It  has  enabled 
the  Grovernment  to  obtain  and  to  keep  a vast  surplus  of 
revenue  over  expenditure.  Even  before  the  civil  war  it 
did  this  — from  1837  to  1857.  Mr.  Wells  tells  us 
that,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  “ There  was  not  a single 
year  in  which  the  unexpended  balance  in  the  National 
Treasury — derived  from  various  sources — at  the  end  of 
the  year,  was  not  in  excess  of  the  total  expenditure  of 
the  preceding  year;  while  in  not  a few  years  the  un- 
expended balance  was  absolutely  greater  than  the  sum 
of  the  entire  expenditure  of  the  twelve  months  preced- 
ing.” But  this  history  before  the  war  is  nothing  to  what 
has  happened  since.  The  following  are  the  surpluses  of 
revenue  over  expenditure  since  the  end  of  the  civil 
war: — 


Year  ending  June  30. 

Surplus. 

£ 

1866 

• 

• • 

5,593,000 

1867 

• 

• • 

21,586,000 

1868 

• 

■ • 

4,242,000 

1869 

• 

• • 

7,418,000 

1870 

• 

• • 

18,627,000 

1871 

• 

• t 

16,712*000 

INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION.  57 

No  one  who  knows  anything  of  the  working  of  Par- 
liamentary Grovernment,  will  for  a moment  imagine  that 
any  Parliament  would  have  allowed  any  executive  to 
keep  a surplus  of  this  magnitude.  In  England,  after  the 
French  war,  the  Government  of  that  day,  which  had 
brought  it  to  a happy  end,  which  had  the  glory  of 
Waterloo,  which  was  in  consequence  exceedingly  strong, 
which  had  besides  elements  of  strength  from  close 
boroughs  and  Treasury  influence  such  as  certainly  no 
Government  has  ever  had  since,  and  such  perhaps  as  no 
Government  ever  had  before — that  Government  proposed 
to  keep  a moderate  surplus  and  to  apply  it  to  the  re- 
duction of  the  debt,  but  even  this  the  English  Parliament 
would  not  endure.  The  administration  with  all  its  power 
derived  both  from  good  and  evil  had  to  yield  ; the  income 
tax  was  abolished,  with  it  went  the  surplus,  and  with  the 
surplus  all  chance  of  any  considerable  reduction  of  the 
debt  for  that  time.  In  truth,  taxation  is  so  painful  that 
in  a sensitive  community  which  has  strong  organs  of  ex- 
pression and  action,  the  maintenance  of  a great  surplus  is 
excessively  difiSicult.  The  opposition  will  always  say  that 
it  is  unnecessary,  is  uncalled  for,  is  injudicious ; the  cry 
will  be  echoed  in  every  constituency ; there  will  be  a 
series  of  large  meetings  in  the  great  cities ; even  in  the 
smaller  constituencies  there  will  mostly  be  smaller  meet- 
ings ; every  member  of  Parliament  will  be  pressed  upon 
by  those  who  elect  him ; upon  this  point  there  will  be  no 


58 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


distinction  between  town  and  country,  the  country  gentle- 
man and  the  farmer  disliking  high  taxes  as  much  as  any  in 
the  towns.  To  maintain  a great  surplus  by  heavy  taxes  to 
pay  off  debt  has  never  yet  in  this  country  been  possible, 
and  to  maintain  a surplus  of  the  American  magnitude 
would  be  plainly  impossible. 

Some  part  of  the  difference  between  England  and 
America  arises  undoubtedly  not  from  political  causes  but 
from  economical.  America  is  not  a country  sensitive  to 
taxes  ; no  great  country  has  perhaps  ever  been  so  unsen- 
sitive in  this  respect ; certainly  she  is  far  less  sensitive 
than  England.  In  reality  America  is  too  rich,  daily 
industry  there  is  too  common,  too  skilful,  and  too  pro- 
ductive, for  her  to  care  much  for  fiscal  burdens.  She 
is  applying  all  the  resources  of  science  and  skill  and 
trained  labour,  which  have  been  in  long  ages  painfully 
acquired  in  old  countries,  to  develop  with  great  speed  the 
richest  soil  and  the  richest  mines  of  new  countries ; and 
the  result  is  untold  wealth.  Even  under  a Parliamentary 
Government  such  a community  could  and  would  bear 
taxation  much  more  easily  than  Englishmen  ever  would. 

But  difference  of  physical  character  in  this  respect  is  of 
little  moment  in  comparison  with  difference  of  political 
constitution.  If  America  was  under  a Parliamentary 
Government,  she  would  soon  be  convinced  that  in  main  - 
taining this  great  surplus  and  in  paying  this  high  taxation 
die  would  be  doing  herself  great  harm.  She  is  nor  per* 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION. 


forming  a great  duty,  but  perpetrating  a great  injustice^ 
She  is  injuring  posterity  by  crippling  and  displacing 
industry,  far  more  than  she  is  aiding  it  by  reducing  the 
taxes  it  will  have  to  pay.  In  the  first  place,  the  main- 
tenance of  the  present  high  taxation  compels  the  retention 
of  many  taxes  which  are  contrary  to  the  maxims  of  free- 
trade.  Enormous  customs  duties  are  necessary,  and  it 
would  be  all  but  impossible  to  impose  equal  excise  duties 
even  if  the  Americans  desired  it.  In  consequence,  besides 
what  the  Americans  pay  to  the  Grovernment,  they  are 
paying  a great  deal  to  some  of  their  own  citizens,  and  so 
are  rearing  a set  of  industries  which  never  ought  to 
have  existed,  which  are  bad  speculations  at  present 
'because  other  industries  would  have  paid  better,  and 
which  may  cause  a great  loss  out  of  pocket  hereafter  when 
the  debt  is  paid  off  and  the  fostering  tax  withdrawn. 
Then  probably  industry  will  return  to  its  natural  channel, 
the  artificial  trade  will  be  first  depressed,  then  discon- 
tinued, and  the  fixed  capital  employed  in  the  trade  will  all 
be  depreciated  and  much  of  it  be  worthless.  Secondly,  all 
taxes  on  trade  and  manufacture  are  injurious  in  various 
ways  to  them.  You  cannot  put  on  a great  series  of  such 
duties  without  cramping  trade  in  a hundred  ways  and 
without  diminishing  their  productiveness  exceedingly. 
America  is  now  working  in  heavy  fetters,  and  it  would 
probably  be  better  for  her  to  lighten  those  fetters  even 
though  a generation  or  two  should  have  to  pay  rather 


60 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


higher  taxes.  Those  generations  would  really  benefit, 
because  they  would  be  so  much  richer  that  the  slightly 
increased  cost  of  government  would  never  be  perceivedL 
At  any  rate,  under  a Parliamentary  Government  tnis 
doctrine  would  have  been  incessantly  inculcated  ; a whole 
party  would  have  made  it  their  business  to  preach  it, 
would  have  made  incessant  small  motions  in  Parliament 
about  it,  which  is  the  way  to  popularise  their  view.  And 
in  the  end  I do  not  doubt  that  they  would  have  prevailed. 
They  would  have  had  to  teach  a lesson  both  pleasant  and 
true,  and  such  lessons  are  soon  learned.  On  the  whole, 
therefore,  the  result  of  the  comparison  is  that  a Presi- 
dential Government  makes  it  much  easier  than  the  Par- 
liamentary to  maintain  a great  surplus  of  income  over 
expenditure,  but  that  it  does  not  give  the  same  facility  for 
examining  whether  it  is  good  or  not  good  to  maintain  a 
surplus,  and,  therefore,  that  it  works  blindly,  maintaining 
surpluses  when  they  do  extreme  harm  just  as  much  as 
when  they  are  very  beneficial. 

In  this  point  the  contrast  of  Presidential  with  Parlia- 
mentary Government  is  mixed  ; one  of  the  defects  of 
Parliamentary  Government  probably  is  the  difficulty 
under  it  of  maintaining  a surplus  revenue  to  discharge 
debt,  and  this  defect  Presidential  Government  escapes, 
though  at  the  cost  of  being  likely  to  maintain  that  sur- 
plus upon  inexpedient  occasions  as  well  upon  expedient. 
But  in  all  other  respects  a Parliamentary  Government 


i^NTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION.  61 

nas  in  finance  an  unmixed  advantage  over  the  Presiden- 
tial in  the  incessant  discussion.  Though  in  one  single  case 
it  produces  evil  as  well  as  good,  in  most  cases  it  producea 
good  only.  And  three  of  these  cases  are  illustrated  by 
recent  American  experience. 

First,  as  Mr.  Groldwin  Smith — no  unfavourable  judge  of 
anything  American— justly  said  some  years  since,  the 
capital  error  made  by  the  United  States  Government 
was  the  Legal  Tender  Act,”  as  it  is  called,  by  which  it 
made  inconvertible  paper  notes  issued  by  the  Treasury 
the  sole  circulating  medium  of  the  country.  The  tempta- 
tion to  do  this  was  very  great,  because  it  gave  at  once  a 
great  war  fund  when  it  was  needed,  and  with  no  pain  to 
any  one.  If  the  notes  of  a Government  supersede  the 
metallic  currency  medium  of  a country  to  the  extent  of 
^80,000,000,  this  is  equivalent  to  a recent  loan  of 
1^80,000,000  to  the  Government  for  all  purposes  within 
the  country.  Whenever  the  precious  metals  are  not 
required  nd  for  domestic  purposes  in  such  a case  they 
are  not  required,  notes  will  buy  what  the  Government 
want,  and  it  can  buy  to  the  extent  of  its  issue.  But, 
like  aU  easy  expedients  out  of  a great  difficulty,  it  is 
accompanied  by  the  greatest  evils;  if  it  had  not  been 
BO,  it  would  have  been  the  regular  device  in  such  cases, 
and  the  difficulty  would  have  been  no  difficulty  at  all ; 
there  would  have  been  a known  way  out  of  it.  As 
is  well  known,  inconvertible  paper  issued  by  Government 


62 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


is  sure  to  be  issued  in  great  quantities,  as  tbe  American 
currency  soon  was  , it  is  sure  to  be  depreciated  as  against 
coin ; it  is  sure  to  disturb  values  and  to  derange  markets  ; it 
is  certain  to  defraud  tbe  lender ; it  is  certain  to  give  the 
borrower  more  than  he  ought  to  have.  In  the  case  of 
America  there  was  a further  evil.  Being  a new  country, 
she  ought  in  her  times  of  financial  want  to  borrow 
of  old  countries ; but  the  old  countries  were  frightened 
by  the  probable  issue  of  unlimited  inconvertible  paper, 
and  they  would  not  lend  a shilling.  Much  more  than 
the  mercantile  credit  of  America  was  thus  lost.  The 
great  commercial  houses  in  England  are  the  most 
natural  and  most  effectual  conveyers  of  intelligence  from 
other  countries  to  Europe.  If  they  had  been  financially 
interested  in  giving  in  a sound  report  as  to  the  progress 
of  the  war,  a sound  report  we  should  have  had.  But  as 
the  Northern  States  raised  no  loans  in  Lombard  Street 
(and  could  raise  none  because  of  their  vicious  paper 
money),  Lombard  Street  did  not  care  about  them,  and 
England  was  very  imperfectly  informed  of  the  progress 
of  the  civil  struggle,  and  on  the  whole  matter,  which  was 
then  new  and  very  complex,  England  had  to  judge  with- 
out having  her  usual  materials  for  judgment,  and  (since 
the  guidance  of  the  ^^city^’on  political  matters  is  very 
quietly  and  imperceptibly  given)  without  knowing  she 
bad  not  those  materials. 

Of  course,  this  error  might  have  been  committed,  and 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION.  63 


perhaps  would  have  been  committed,  under  a Parliamentary 
Government.  But  if  it  had,  its  effects  would  ere  long  have 
been  thoroughly  searched  into  and  eflfectually  frustrated 
The  whole  force  of  the  greatest  inquiring  machine  and 
the  greatest  discussing  machine  which  the  world  has  ever 
known  would  have  been  directed  to  this  subject.  In  a 
year  or  two  the  American  public  would  have  had  it  forced 
upon  them  in  every  form  till  they  must  have  compre- 
hended it.  But  under  the  Presidential  form  of  Government, 
and  owing  to  the  inferior  power  of  generating  discussion, 
the  information  given  to  the  American  people  has  been 
imperfect  in  the  extreme.  And  in  consequence,  after 
nearly  ten  years  of  painful  experience  they  do  not  now 
understand  how  much  they  have  suffered  from  their 
inconvertible  currency. 

But  the  mode  in  which  the  Presidential  Government 
of  America  managed  its  taxation  during  the  Civil  War,  is 
even  a more  striking  example  of  its  defects.  Mr.  Wells 
tells  us : — 

^‘In  the  outset  all  direct  or  internal  taxation  was 
avoided,  there  having  been  apparently  an  apprehension 
on  the  pnrt  of  Congress,  that  inasmuch  as  the  people  had 
never  been  accustomed  to  it,  and  as  all  machinery  for 
assessment  and  collection  was  wholly  wanting,  its  adop- 
tion would  create  discontent,  and  thereby  interfere  with  a 
vigorous  prosecution  of  hostilities.  Congress,  therefore, 
confined  itself  at  first  to  the  enactment  J measures 


64 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


looking  to  an  increase  of  revenue  from  the  increase  of 
indirect  taxes  upon  imports ; and  it  was  not  until  four 
months  after  the  actual  outbreak  of  hostilities  that  a 
direct  tax  of  ;^2050005000  per  annum  was  apportioned 
among  the  States,  and  an  income  tax  of  3 per  cent,  on 
the  excess  of  all  incomes  over  ^^800  was  provided  for ; the 
first  being  made  to  take  effect  practically  eight,  and 
the  second  ten  months  after  date  of  enactment.  Such 
laws,  of  course,  took  effect  and  became  immediately 
operative  in  the  loyal  States  only,  and  produced  but 
comparatively  little  revenue ; and  although  the  range  of 
taxation  was  soon  extended,  the  whole  receipts  from  all 
sources  by  the  Government  for  the  second  year  of  the 
war,  from  excise,  income,  stamp,  and  all  other  internal 
taxes,  were  less  than  ,^42,000,000;  and  that,  too,  at  a 
time  when  the  expenditures  were  in  excess  ;^60, 000,000 
per  month,  or  at  the  rate  of  over  ^^700,000,000  per  annum. 
And  as  showing  how  novel  was  this  whole  subject  of  direct 
and  internal  taxation  to  the  people,  and  how  completely 
the  government  officials  were  lacking  in  all  experience  in 
respect  to  it,  the  following  incident  may  be  noted.  The 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury,  in  his  report  for  1863,  stated 
that,  with  a view  of  determining  his  resources,  he  em- 
ployed a very  competent  person,  with  the  aid  of  practical 
men,  to  estimate  the  probable  amount  of  revenue  to  be 
derived  from  each  department  of  internal  taxation  for  the 


INTEODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION.  65 

previous  year.  The  estimate  arrived  at  was  if85,000,000, 
but  the  actual  receipts  were  only  ;^3750005000.  ” 

Now,  no  douht,  this  might  have  happened  under  a Par- 
liamentary Grovernment.  But,  then,  many  membexs  of 
Parliament,  the  entire  opposition  in  Parliament,  would 
have  been  active  to  unravel  the  matter.  All  the  principles 
of  finance  would  have  been  worked  and  propounded.  The 
light  would  have  come  from  above,  not  from  below — it 
would  have  come  from  Parliament  to  the  nation  instead 
of  from  the  nation  to  Parliament.  But  exactly  the 
reverse  happened  in  America.  Mr.  Wells  goes  on  to 
say 

The  people  of  the  loyal  States  were,  however,  more 
determined  and  in  earnest  in  respect  to  this  matter  of 
taxation  than  were  their  rulers;  and  before  long  the 
popular  discontent  at  the  existing  state  of  things  was 
openly  manifest.  Everywhere  the  opinion  was  expressed 
that  taxation  in  all  possible  forms  should  immediately^ 
and  to  the  largest  extent,  be  made  effective  and  impera- 
tive ; and  Congress  spurred  up,  and  rightfully  relying  on 
public  sentiment  to  sustain  their  action,  at  last  took  up 
the  matter  resolutely  and  in  earnest,  and  devised  and 
inaugurated  a system  of  internal  and  direct  taxation, 
which  for  its  universality  and  peculiarities  has  probably 
no  parallel  in  anything  which  has  heretofore  been  recorded 
in  civil  history,  or  is  likely  to  be  experienced  hereafter 


68 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


The  one  necessity  of  the  situation  was  revenue,  and  to 
obtain  it  speedily  and  in  large  amounts  through  taxation 
the  only  principle  recognised — if  it  can  be  called  a prin- 
ciple— ^was  ahin  to  that  recommended  to  the  traditionary 
Irishman  on  his  visit  to  Donnybrook  Fair,  ^Wherever 
you  see  a head,  hit  it.’  Wherever  you  find  an  article,  a 
product,  a trade,  a profession,  or  a source  of  income,  tax 
it  I And  so  an  edict  went  forth  to  this  effect,  and  the 
people  cheerfully  submitted.  Incomes  under  $5fi00 
were  taxed  5 per  cent.,  with  an  exemption  of  i^GOO 
and  house  rent  actually  paid;  these  exemptions  being 
allowed  on  this  ground,  that  they  represented  an  amount 
sufficient  at  the  time  to  enable  a small  family  to  procure 
vhe  bare  necessaries  of  life,  and  thus  take  out  from  the 
operation  of  the  law  all  those  who  were  dependent  upon 
each  day’s  earnings  to  supply  each  day’s  needs.  Incomes 
in  excess  of  /5,000  and  not  in  excess  of  0,000  were 
taxed  2^  per  cent,  in  addition;  and  incomes  over  ,^10,000 
5 per  cent,  additional,  without  any  abeyance  or  exemp- 
tions whatever.  ” 

Now  this  is  all  contrary  to  and  worse  than  what  would 
have  happened  under  a Parliamentary  Grovernment.  The 
delay  to  tax  would  not  have  occurred  under  it : the  move- 
ment by  the  country  to  get  taxation  would  never  have  been 
necessary  under  it.  The  excessive  taxation  accordingly 
imposed  would  not  have  been  permitted  under  it.  The 
.ast  point  I think  I need  not  labour  at  length.  Th§ 


INTRODUCTION  TO  THE  SECOND  EDITION.  67 


evils  of  a bad  tax  are  quite  sure  to  be  pressed  i.pon  the 
ears  of  Parliament  in  season  and  out  of  season : the  few 
persons  who  have  to  pay  it  are  thoroughly  certain  to  make 
themselves  heard.  The  sort  of  taxation  tried  in  America, 
that  of  taxing  everything,  and  seeing  what  everything 
would  yield,  could  not  have  been  tried  under  a Govern - 
ment  delicately  and  quickly  sensitive  to  public  opinion, 

I do  not  apologise  for  dwelling  at  length  upon  these 
points,  for  the  subject  is  one  of  transcendent  importance. 

practical  choice  of  first-rate  nations  is  between  the 
Presidential  Government  and  the  Parliamentary ; no  Statf 
can  be  first-rate  which  has  not  a Government  by  discussioi^ 
and  those  are  the  only  two  existing  species  of  that  Govern- 
ment. It  is  between  them  that  a nation  which  has  to 
choose  its  Government  must  choose.  And  nothing  there- 
fore can  be  more  important  than  to  compare  the  two,  and 
to  decide  upon  the  testimony  of  experience,  and  by  facts, 
which  of  them  is  the  better. 

June  29,  18'72. 


Note. — The  results  of  the  presidential  election  of  1876  add 
force  to  the  foregoing  criticisms  of  the  working  of  the  United 
States  Constitution,  Mr.  Bagehot,  in  discussing  the  recent  elec- 
tion in  his  journal,  has  remarked  upon  our  defective  method  of 
President-making  to  the  following  effect : He  considers  it  a mis- 
take to  let  the  election  of  the  President  depend  on  a great  popular 
vote  taken  for  that  sole  purpose.  No  doubt  the  original  intention 
was  that  the  electoral  college  should  be  a deliberative  body.  But 
it  has  ceased  to  be  such,  and  this  was  inevitable,  for  the  reasoo 


68 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


that  a single  question  cannot  be  referred  to  a popular  vote  without 
getting  representatives  whose  decision  on  that  one  question  will  be 
pledged  to  their  constituents.  The  only  way  in  which  a body 
elected  by  the  people  can  be  a genuinely  deliberative  one  is  to 
refer  to  it  a number  of  different  questions  of  all  degrees  of  im- 
portance, with  freedom  to  choose  in  conformity  with  the  results 
of  discussion  on  any  one  of  them.  The  Senate,  which  is  elected 
by  the  Legislatures  of  the  various  States,  has  always  had  more 
consideration  and  influence  in  consequence  of  that  mode  of  elec- 
tion; and  if  the  choice  of  the  President  had  been  left  to  the  two 
Houses  of  Congress,  sitting  in  common,  there  is  little  doubt  that, 
as  a rule,  better  Presidents  would  have  been  chosen.  In  that  way, 
too,  would  have  been  avoided  all  danger  of  the  invalidation  of  an 
important  election  in  consequence  of  possible  violence,  or  the  cor- 
ruption of  some  local  board,  in  a distant  State. — See  London  Ecemo* 
miit  of  November  25,  1876. 


II. 

THE  CABINET. 

On  all  great  subjects,”  says  Mr.  Mill,  “ much  remains  to 
be  said,”  and  of  none  is  this  more  true  than  of  the  English 
Constitution.  The  literature  which  has  accumulated  upon 
it  is  huge.  But  an  observer  who  looks  at  the  living  reality 
will  wonder  at  the  contrast  to  the  paper  description.  He 
will  see  in  the  life  much  which  is  not  in  the  books ; and 
he  will  not  find  in  the  rough  practice  many  refinements 
of  the  literary  theory. 

It  was  natural — perhaps  inevitable — that  such  an  under- 
growth of  irrelevant  ideas  should  gather  round  the  British 
Constitution.  Language  is  the  tradition  of  nations ; each 
generation  describes  what  it  sees,  but  it  uses  words  trans- 
mitted from  the  past.  When  a great  entity  like  the 
British  Constitution  has  continued  in  connected  outward 
sameness,  but  hidden  inner  change,  for  many  ages,  every 
generation  inherits  a series  of  inapt  words— of  maxims 


70 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


once  true,  but  of  which  the  truth  is  ceasing  or  has  ceased. 
As  a man’s  family  go  on  muttering  in  his  maturity  incor- 
rect phrases  derived  from  a just  observation  of  his  early 
youth,  so,  in  the  full  activity  of  an  historical  constitution, 
its  subjects  repeat  phrases  true  in  the  time  of  their  fathers, 
and  inculcated  by  those  fatliers,  but  now  true  no  longer. 
Or,  if  I may  say  so,  an  ancient  and  ever-altering  constitu- 
tion is  like  an  old  man  who  still  wears  with  attached 
fondness  clothes  in  the  fashion  of  his  youth  : what  you 
see  of  him  is  the  same ; what  you  do  not  see  is  wholly 
altered. 

There  are  two  descriptions  of  the  English  Constitution 
which  have  exercised  immense  influence,  but  which  are 
erroneous.  First,  it  is  laid  down  as  a principle  of  the 
English  polity,  that  in  it  the  legislative,  the  executive, 
and  the  judicial  powers,  are  quite  divided — that  each  is 
entrusted  to  a separate  person  or  set  of  persons — that  no 
one  of  these  can  at  all  interfere  with  the  work  of  the  other. 
There  has  been  much  eloquence  expended  in  explaining 
how  the  rough  genius  of  the  English  people,  even  in  the 
middle  ages,  when  it  was  especially  rude,  carried  into  life 
and  practice  that  elaborate  division  of  functions  which 
philosophers  had  suggested  on  paper,  but  which  they  had 
hardly  hoped  to  see  except  on  paper. 

Secondly,  it  is  insisted  that  the  peculiar  excellence  of 
the  British  Constitution  lies  in  a balanced  union  of  three 
powers.  It  is  said  that  the  monarchical  element,  the 
aristocratic  element,  and  the  democratic  element,  have 
each  a share  in  the  supreme  sovereignty,  and  that  the 
assent  of  all  three  is  necessary  to  the  action  of  that 


THE  CABINET. 


71 


sovereignty.  Kings,  lords,  and  commons,  by  this  theory, 
are  alleged  to  be  not  only  the  outward  form,  but  the  inner 
moving  essence,  the  vitality  of  the  constitution.  A great 
theory,  called  the  theory  of  “ Checks  and  Balances,’' 
pervades  an  immense  part  of  political  literature,  and 
much  of  it  is  collected  from  or  supported  by  English 
experience.  Monarchy,  it  is  said,  has  some  faults,  some 
bad  tendencies,  aristocracy  others,  democracy,  again, 
others;  but  England  has  shown  that  a government  can 
oe  constructed  in  which  these  evil  tendencies  exactly 
check,  balance,  and  destroy  one  another — in  which  a good 
whole  is  constructed  not  simply  in  spite  of,  but  by  means 
of,  the  counteracting  defects  of  the  constituent  parts. 

Accordingly,  it  is  believed  that  the  principal  character- 
istics of  the  English  Constitution  are  inapplicable  in 
countries  where  the  materials  for  a monarchy  or  an 
aristocracy  do  not  exist.  That  constitution  is  conceived 
to  be  the  best  imaginable  use  of  the  political  elements 
which  the  great  majority  of  States  in  modern  Europe 
inherited  from  the  mediseval  period.  It  it?  believed  that 
out  of  these  materials  nothing  better  can  be  made  than 
the  English  Constitution ; but  it  is  also  believed  that  the 
essential  parts  of  the  English  Constitution  cannot  be  made 
except  from  these  materials.  Now  these  elements  are  the 
accidents  of  a period  and  a region ; they  belong  only  to 
one  or  two  centuries  in  human  history,  and  to  a few 
countries.  The  United  States  could  not  have  become 
monarchical,  even  if  the  Constitutional  Convention  had 
decreed  it,  even  if  the  component  States  had  ratified  it. 
The  mystic  reverence,  the  religious  allegiance,  which  are 


72 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


essential  to  a true  monarchy,  are  imaginative  sentiments 
that  no  legislature  can  manufacture  in  any  people.  These 
semi-’filial  feelings  in  government  are  inherited  just  as  the 
true  filial  feelings  in  common  life.  You  might  as  well 
adopt  a father  as  make  a monarchy ; the  special  sentiment 
belonging  to  the  one  is  as  incapable  of  voluntary  creation 
as  the  peculiar  affection  belonging  to  the  other.  If  the 
practical  part  of  the  English  Constitution  could  only  be 
made  out  of  a curious  accumulation  of  mediaaval  materials, 
its  interest  would  be  half  historical,  and  its  imitability 
very  confined. 

No  one  can  approach  to  an  understanding  of  the  English 
institutions,  or  of  others  which,  being  the  growth  of  many 
centuries,  exercise  a wide  sway  over  mixed  populations, 
unless  he  divide  them  into  two  classes.  In  such  constitu- 
tions there  are  two  parts  (not  indeed  separable  with 
microscopic  accuracy,  for  the  genius  of  great  affairs  abhors 
nicety  of  division) : first,  those  which  excite  and  preserve 
the  reverence  of  the  population — the  dignified  parts,  if 
I may  so  call  them  ; and  next,  the  ejficient  parts — those 
by  which  it,  in  fact,  works  and  rules.  There  are  two 
great  objects  which  every  constitution  must  attain  to  be 
successful,  which  every  old  and  celebrated  one  must  have 
wonderfully  achieved : every  constitution  must  first  gain 
authority,  and  then  use  authority ; it  must  first  win  the 
loyalty  and  confidence  of  mankind,  and  then  employ  that 
homage  in  the  work  of  government. 

There  are  indeed  practical  men  who  reject  the  dignified 
parts  of  government.  They  say,  we  want  only  to  attain 
results,  to  do  busiress : a constitution  is  a collection  of 


THE  CABINET. 


73 


political  means  for  political  ends,  and  if  you  admit  that 
any  part  of  a constitution  does  no  business,  or  that  a 
simpler  machine  would  do  equally  well  what  it  does,  you 
admit  that  this  part  of  the  constitution,  however  dignified 
or  awful  it  may  be,  is  nevertheless  in  truth  useless.  And 
other  reasoners,  who  distrust  this  bare  philosophy,  have 
propounded  subtle  arguments  to  prove  that  these  dignified 
parts  of  old  governments  are  cardinal  components  of  the 
essential  apparatus,  great  pivots  of  substantial  utility;  and 
so  they  manufactured  fallacies  which  the  plainer  school 
have  well  exposed.  But  both  schools  are  in  error.  The 
dignified  parts  of  government  are  those  which  bring  it 
force — which  attract  its  motive  power.  The  efficient 
parts  only  employ  that  power.  The  comely  parts  of  a 
government  have  need,  for  they  are  those  upon  which 
its  vital  strength  depends.  They  may  not  do  anything 
definite  that  a simpler  polity  would  not  do  better ; but 
they  are  the  preliminaries,  the  needful  pre-requisites  of 
all  work.  They  raise  the  arnay,  though  they  do  not  win 
tlie  battle. 

Doubtless,  if  all  subjects  of  the  same  government  only 
thought  of  what  was  useful  to  them,  and  if  they  all  thought 
the  same  thing  useful,  and  all  thought  that  same  thing 
could  be  attained  in  the  same  way,  the  efficient  members 
of  a constitution  would  suffice,  and  no  impressive  adjuncts 
would  be  needed.  But  the  world  in  which  we  live  is 
organised  far  otherwise. 

The  most  strange  fact,  though  the  most  certain  in 
nature,  is  the  unequal  development  of  the  human  race. 
If  we  look  back  to  the  early  ages  of  mankind,  such  as  we 


74 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


seem  in  the  faint  distance  to  see  them — if  we  call  up 
the  image  of  those  dismal  tribes  in  lake  villages,  oi 
on  wretched  beaches— scarcely  equal  to  the  commonest 
material  reeds,  cutting  down  trees  slowly  and  painfully 
with  stone  toolte,  hardly  resisting  the  attacks  of  huge, 
fierce  animals — without  culture,  without  leisure,  without 
poetry,  almost  without  thought — destitute  of  morality, 
with  only  a sort  of  magic  for  religion  ; and  if  we  compare 
that  imagined  life  with  the  actual  life  of  Europe  now,  we 
are  overwhelmed  at  the  wide  contrast — we  can  scarcely 
conceive  ourselves  to  be  of  the  same  race  as  those  in  the 
far  distance.  There  used  to  be  a notion — not  so  much 
widely  asserted  as  deeply  implanted,  rather  pervadingly 
latent  than  commonly  apparent  in  political  philosophy — 
that  in  a little  while,  perhaps  ten  years  or  so,  all  human 
beings  might,  without  extraordinary  appliances,  be  brought 
to  the  same  level.  But  now,  when  we  see  by  the  painful 
history  of  mankind  at  what  point  we  began,  by  what  slow 
toil,  what  favourable  circumstances,  what  accumulated 
achievements,  civilised  man  has  become  at  all  worthy  in 
any  degree  so  to  call  himself — when  we  realise  the  tedium 
of  history  and  the  painfulness  of  results — our  perceptions 
are  sharpened  as  to  the  relative  steps  of  our  long  and 
gradual  progress.  We  have  in  a great  community  like 
England  crowds  of  people  scarcely  more  civilised  than 
the  majority  of  two  thousand  years  ago  ; we  have  others, 
even  more  numerous,  such  as  the  best  people  were  a thou- 
sand years  since.  The  lower  orders,  the  middle  orders,  are 
still,  when  tried  by  what  is  the  standard  of  the  edTicated 
‘‘ten  thousand,’  narrow-minded,  unintelligent,  incurious. 


THE  CABINET. 


75 


ft  is  useless  to  pile  up  abstract  words.  Those  who  doubt 
should  go  out  into  their  kitchens.  Let  an  accomplished 
man  try  what  seems  to  him  most  obvious,  most  certain, 
most  palpable  in  intellectual  matters,  upon  the  housemaid 
and  the  footman,  and  he  will  find  that  what  he  says  seems 
unintelligible,  confused,  and  erroneous — that  his  audience 
think  him  mad  and  wild  when  he  is  speaking  what  is  in 
his  own  sphere  of  thought  the  dullest  platitude  of  cautious 
soberness.  Great  communities  are  like  great  mountains — 
they  have  in  them  the  primary,  secondary,  and  tertiary 
strata,  of  human  progress  ; the  characteristics  of  the  lower 
regions  resemble  the  life  of  old  times  rather  than  the 
present  life  of  the  higher  regions.  And  a philosophy  which 
does  not  ceaselessly  remember,  which  does  not  coutinually 
obtrude,  the  palpable  differences  of  the  various  parts,  will 
be  a theory  radically  false,  because  it  has  omitted  a capital 
reality — will  be  a theory  essentially  misleading,  because 
it  will  lead  men  to  expect  what  does  not  exist,  and  not  to 
anticipate  that  which  they  will  find. 

Everyone  knows  these  plain  facts,  but  by  no  means 
everyone  has  traced  their  political  importance.  When  a 
state  is  constituted  thus,  it  is  not  true  that  the  lower 
classes  will  be  wholly  absorbed  in  the  useful ; on  the  con- 
trary, they  do  not  like  anything  so  poor.  No  orator  ever 
made  an  impression  by  appealing  to  men  as  to  their 
plainest  physical  wants,  except  when  he  could  allege  that 
those  wants  were  caused  by  some  one’s  tyranny.  But 
thousands  have  made  the  greatest  impression  by  appealing 
to  some  vague  dream  of  glory,  or  empire,  or  nationality. 
The  ruder  sort  of  men- — that  is,  men  at  one  stage  olH 


76 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


rudeness — will  sacrifice  all  they  hope  for,  all  they  have, 
themselves^  for  what  is  called  an  idea — for  some  attraction 
which  seems  to  transcend  reality,  which  aspires  to  elevate 
men  by  an  interest  higher,  deeper,  wider  than  that  of 
ordinary  life.  But  this  order  of  men  are  uninterested  in 
the  plain,  palpable  ends  of  government ; they  do  not  prize 
them ; they  do  not  in  the  least  comprehend  how  they 
should  be  attained.  It  is  very  natural,  therefore,  that 
the  most  useful  parts  of  the  structure  of  government 
should  by  no  means  be  those  which  excite  the  most 
reverence.  The  elements  which  excite  the  most  easy 
reverence  will  be  the  theatrical  elements — those  which 
appeal  to  the  senses,  which  claim  to  be  embodiments  of 
the  greatest  human  ideas,  which  boast  in  some  cases  of 
far  more  than  human  origin.  That  which  is  mystic  in 
its  claims ; that  which  is  occult  in  its  mode  of  action ; 
that  which  is  brilliant  to  the  eye ; that  which  is  seen 
vividly  for  a moment,  and  then  is  seen  no  more ; that 
which  is  hidden  and  unhidden ; that  which  is  specious, 
and  yet  interesting,  palpable  in  its  seeming,  and  yet 
professing  to  be  more  than  palpable  in  its  results ; 
this,  howsoever  its  form  may  change,  or  however  we 
may  define  it  or  describe  it,  is  the  sort  of  thing — the  only 
sort — which  yet  comes  home  to  the  mass  of  men.  So  faF 
from  the  dignified  parts  of  a constitution  being  necessarily 
the  most  useful,  they  are  likely,  according  to  outside  pre- 
sumption, to  be  the  least  so  ; for  they  are  likely  to  be 
jidjusted  to  the  lowest  orders — those  likely  to  care  least 
ind  judge  worst  about  what  is  useful. 

There  is  another  reason  which,  in  an  old  constitutif)!! 


THE  CABINET. 


77 


like  that  of  England,  is  hardly  less  important.  The  most 
intellectnal  of  men  are  moved  quite  as  much  by  the  cir^ 
cumstances  which  they  are  used  to  as  by  their  own  wilL 
The  active  voluntary  part  of  a man  is  very  small,  and  il  ^ 
it  were  not  economised  by  a sleepy  kind  of  habit,  its 
results  would  be  null.  We  could  not  do  every  day  out  of 
our  own  heads  all  we  have  to  do.  We  should  accomplish 
nothing,  for  all  our  energies  would  be  frittered  away  in 
minor  attempts  at  petty  improvement.  One  man,  too, 
would  go  off  from  the  known  track  in  one  direction,  and 
one  in  another;  so  that  when  a crisis  came  requiring 
massed  combination,  no  two  men  would  be  near  enough  to 
act  together.  It  is  the  dull  traditional  habit  of  mankind^ 
that  guides  most  men’s  actions,  and  is  the  steady  frame  in 
which  each  new  artist  must  set  the  picture  that  he  paints^ 
And  all  this  traditional  part  of  human  nature  is,  ex  vi 
termini^  most  easily  impressed  and  acted  on  by  that  which 
is  handed  down.  Other  things  being  equal,  yesterday^ 
institutions  are  by  far  the  best  for  to-day ; they  are  the 
most  ready,  the  most  influential,  the  most  easy  to  get 
obeyed,  the  most  likely  to  retain  the  reverence  which 
they  alone  inherit,  and  which  every  other  must  win./ 
The  most  imposing  institutions  of  mankind  are  the 
oldest ; and  yet  so  changing  is  the  world,  so  fluctuating 
are  its  needs,  so  apt  to  lose  inward  force,  though  re- 
taining outward  strength,  are  its  best  instruments,  that 
we  must  not  expect  the  oldest  institutions  to  be  now  the 
most  efficient.  We  must  expect  what  is  venerable  to 
acquire  influence  because  of  its  inherent  dignity ; but  we 
must  not  expect  it  to  use  that  influence  so  well  as  new 


78 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


creations  apt  for  the  modern  world,  instinct  with  its 
spirit,  and  fitting  closely  to  its  life. 

The  brief  description  of  the  characteristic  merit  of  the^^ 
English  Constitution  is,  that  its  dignified  parts  are  very 
j complicated  and  somewhat  imposing,  very  old  and  rather 
venerable ; while  its  efficient  part,  at  least  when  in  great 
and  critical  action,  is  decidedly  simple  and  rather  modern. 
We  have  made,  or  rather  stumbled  on,  a constitution 
which — though  full  of  every  species  of  incidental  defect, 
though  of  the  worst  workmanship  in  all  out-of-the- 
way  matters  of  any  constitution  in  the  world — yet  has  two 
capital  merits  : it  contains  a simple  efficient  part  which, 
on  occasion,  and  when  wanted,  can  work  more  simply 
and  easily,  and  better,  than  any  instrument  of  government 
that  has  yet  been  tried  ; and  it  contains  likewise  histori- 
cal, complex,  august,  theatrical  parts,  which  it  has  in- 
herited from  a long  past — which  take  the  multitude — 
which  guide  by  an  insensible  but  an  omnipotent  influence 
the  associations  of  its  subjects.  Its  essence  is  strong 
with  the  strength  of  modern  simplicity ; its  exterior  is 
august  with  the  Gothic  grandeur  of  a more  imposing  age. 
Its  simple  essence  may,  mutatis  mutandis^  be  trans- 
planted to  many  very  various  countries,  but  its  august 
outside — what  most  men  think  it  is — is  narrowly  confined 
to  nations  with  an  analogous  history  and  similar  political 
materials. 

The  efficient  secret  of  the  English  Constitution  may  be 
described  as  the  close  union,  the  nearly  complete  fusion, 
of  the  executive  and  legislative  powers.  No  doubt  by 
the  traditional  theory,  as  it  exists  in  all  the  b:>oks,  the 


THE  CABINET. 


79 


goodness  of  our  constitution  consists  in  the  entire  sepa- 
ration of  the  legislative  and  executive  authorities,  but  in  ^ 
truth  its  merit  consists  in  their  singular  approximation. 

The  connecting  link  is  the  cabinet.  By  that  new  word 
we  mean  a committee  orThe  legislative  body  selected  to 
be  the  executive  body.  The  legislature  has  many  com- 
mittees, but  this  is  its  greatest.  It  chooses  for  this,  its 
mam  committee,  the  men  in  whom  it  has  most  confidence. 

It  does  not,  it  is  true,  choose  them  directly;  but  it  is 
nearly  omnipotent  in  choosing  them  indirectly.  A cen- 
tury ago  the  Crown  had  a real  choice  of  ministers,  though 
it  had  no  longer  a choice  in  policy.  During  the  long 
reign  of  Sir  E.  Walpole  he  was  obliged  not  only  to 
manage  parliament,  but  to  manage  the  palace.  He  was 
obliged  to  take  care  that  some  court  intrigue  did  not 
expel  him  from  his  place.  The  nation  then  selected  the 
English  policy,  but  the  Crown  chose  the  English  ministers. 
They  were  not  only  in  name,  as  now,  but  in  fact,  the 
Queen’s  servants.  Eemnants,  important  remnants,  of  this 
great  prerogative  still  remain.  The  discriminating  favour 
of  William  IV.  made  Lord  Melbourne  head  of  the  Whig 
party  when  he  was  only  one  of  several  rivals.  At  the 
death  of  Lord  Palmerston  it  is  very  likely  that  the  Queen 
may  have  the  opportunity  of  freely  choosing  between  two, 
if  not  three  statesmen.  But,  as  a rule,  the  nominal  prime 
minister  is  chosen  by  the  legislature,  and  the  real  prime 
minister  for  most  purposes — the  leader  of  the  House  of 
Commons — almost  without  exception  is  so.  There  is  nearly 
always  some  one  man  plainly  selected  by  the  voice  of 
the  predominant  party  in  the  predominant  house  of  the 


^0 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


legislature  to  head  that  party,  and  consequently  to  rule  the 
nation.  We  have  in  England  an  elective  first  magistrate 
as  truly  as  the  Americans  have  an  elective  first  magis* 
trate.  The  Queen  is  only  at  the  head  of  the  dignified 
part  of  the  constitution.  The  prime  minister  is  at  the 
head  of  the  efficient  part.  The  Crown  is,  according  to 
the  saying,  the  “ fountain  of  honour but  the  Treasury 
is  the  spring  of  business.  Nevertheless,  our  first  magis- 
trate differs  from  the  American.  He  is  not  elected 
directly  by  the  people  ; he  is  elected  by  the  represen- 
tatives of  the  people.  He  is  an  example  of  ‘‘  double 
election.”  The  legislature  chosen,  in  name,  to  make 
laws,  in  fact  finds  its  principal  business  in  making  and  in 
keeping  an  executive. 

The  leading  minister  so  selected  has  to  choose  his 
associates,  but  he  only  chooses  among  a charmed  circle. 
The  position  of  most  men  in  parliament  forbids  their 
being  invited  to  the  cabinet;  the  position  of  a few 
men  ensures  their  being  invited.  Between  the  com- 
pulsory list  whom  he  must  take,  and  the  impossible 
list  whom  he  cannot  take,  a prime  minister’s  inde- 
pendent choice  in  the  formation  of  a cabinet  is  not 
very  large ; it  extends  rather  to  the  division  of  the 
cabinet  offices  than  to  the  choice  of  cabinet  ministers. 
Parliament  and  the  nation  have  pretty  well  settled 
who  shall  have  the  first  places ; but  they  have  not 
iiscriminated  with  the  same  accuracy  which  man  shall 
have  which  place.  The  highest  patronage  of  a prime 
minister  is,  of  course,  a considerable  power,  though  it 
is  exercised  under  close  and  imperative  restrictions 


THE  CABINET. 


81 


—though  it  is  far  less  than  it  seems  to  be  when  stated 
ip  theory,  or  looked  at  from  a distance. 

The  cabinet,  in  a word,  is  a board  of  control  chosen  by 
thejegislature,  out  of  persons  whom  it  trusts  and  knows, 
to  rule  the  nation.  The  particular  mode  in  which  the 
English  ministers  are  selected  ; the  fiction  that  they  are, 
in  any  political  sense,  the  Queen’s  servants ; the  rule  which 
limits  the  choice  of  the  cabinet  to  the  members  of  the 
legislature — are  accidents  unessential  to  its  definition — 
historical  incidents  separable  from  its  nature.  Its  charac- 
teristic is  that  it  should  be  chosen  by  the  legislature  out 
of  persons  agreeable  to  and  trusted  by  the  legislature. 
Naturally  these  are  principally  its  own  members — but 
they  need  not  be  exclusively  so.  A cabinet  which  in- 
cluded persons  not  members  of  the  legislative  assembly 
might  still  perform  all  useful  duties.  Indeed  the  Peers, 
who  constitute  a large  element  in  modern  cabinets,  are 
members,  now-a-days,  only  of  a subordinate  assembly. 
The  House  of  Lords  still  exercises  several  useful  func- 
tions ; but  the  ruling  influence — the  deciding  faculty — 
has  passed  to  what,  using  the  language  of  old  times,  we 
still  call  the  lower  house — to  an  assembly  which,  though 
inferior  as  a dignified  institution,  is  superior  as  an  efficient 
institution.  A principal  advantage  of  the  House  of  Lords  # 
in  the  present  age  indeed  consists  in  its  thus  acting  as  a 
reservoir  of  cabinet  ministei’s.  Unless  the  composition 
of  the  House  of  Commons  were  improved,  or  unless  the 
rules  requiring  cabinet  ministers  to  be  members  of  the 
legislature  were  relaxed,  it  would  undoubtedly  be  difficult 
to  find,  without  the  Lords,  a sufficient  supply  of  chief 


82 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


ministers.  But  the  detail  of  the  composition  of  a cabinet, 
and  the  precise  method  of  its  choice,  are  not  to  the  pur- 
pose now.  The  first  and  cardinal  consideration  is  the 
definition  of  a cabinet.  We  must  not  bewilder  ourselves 
with  the  inseparable  accidents  until  we  know  the  neces- 
sary essence.  A cabinet  is  a combining  committee — 
a hyphen  which  joins,  a buckle  which  fastens,  the  legis- 
lative part  of  the  state  to  the  executive  part  of  the  state. 
In  its  origin  it  belongs  to  the  one,  in  its  functions  it 
belongs  to  the  other. 

The  most  curious  point  about  the  cabinet  is  that  so 
very  little  is  known  about  it.  The  meetings  are  not  only 
secret  in  theory,  but  secret  in  reality.  By  the  present 
practice,  no  ofiBcial  minute  in  all  ordinary  cases  is  kept  of 
them.  Even  a private  note  is  discouraged  and  disliked. 
The  House  of  Commons,  even  in  its  most  inquisitive  and 
turbulent  moments,  would  scarcely  permit  a note  of  a 
cabinet  meeting  to  be  read.  No  minister  who  respected 
the  fundamental  usages  of  political  practice  would  attempt 
to  read  such  a note.  The  committee  which  unites  the 
law-making  power  to  the  law-executing  power — which, 
by  virtue  of  that  combination,  is,  while  it  lasts  and  holds 
together,  the  most  powerful  body  in  the  state — is  a 
^committee  wholly  secret.  No  description  of  it,  at  once 
graphic  and  authentic,  has  ever  been  given.  It  is  said 
to  be  sometimes  like  a rather  disorderly  board  of  direc- 
tors, where  many  speak  and  few  listen — though  no  one 
knows.* 

* It  is  said  that  at  the  end  of  the  cabinet  which  agreed  to  propose  a fixed 
duty  on  corn,  Lo'd  Melbourne  put  his  back  to  the  door,  and  said,  “Now  if 


THE  CABINET. 


83 


But  a cabinet,  though  it  is  a committee  of  the  legis- 
lative assembly,  is  a committee  with  a power  which  no 
assembly  would — unless  for  historical  accidents,  and  after 
nappy  experience — have  been  persuaded  to  entrust  to  any 
committee.  It  is  a committee  which  can  dissolve  the 
assembly  which  appointed  it ; it  is  a committee  with  a 
suspensive  veto — a committee  with  a power  of  appeal. 
Though  appointed  by  one  parliament,  it  can  appeal  if  it 
chooses  to  the  next.  Theoretically,  indeed,  the  power  to 
dissolve  parliament  is  entrusted  to  the  sovereign  only ; 
and  there  are  vestiges  of  doubt  whether  in  all  cases 
a sovereign  is  bound  to  dissolve  parliament  when  the 
cabinet  asks  him  to  do  so.  But  neglecting  such  small 
and  dubious  exceptions,  the  cabinet  which  was  chosen  by 
one  House  of  Commons  has  an  appeal  to  the  next  House 
of  Commons.  The  chief  committee  of  the  legislature 
has  the  power  of  dissolving  the  predominant  part  of  that 
legislature — that  which  at  a crisis  is  the  supreme  legis- 
lature. The  English  system,  therefore,  is  not  an  absorp- 
tion of  the  executive  power  by  the  legislative  power ; it 
is  a fusion  of  the  two.  Either  the  cabinet  legislates  and 
acts,  or  else  it  can  dissolve.  It  is  a creature,  but  it  has 
the  power  of  destroying  its  creators.  It  is  an  executive 
which  can  annihilate  the  legislature,  as  well  as  an  execu- 
tive which  is  the  nominee  of  the  legislature.  It  was 
made,  but  it  can  unmake ; it  was  derivative  in  its  origin, 
but  it  is  destructive  in  its  action. 

it  to  lower  the  price  of  corn,  or  isn’t  it  ? It  is  not  much  matter  which  we 
say,  but  mind,  we  must  all  say  the  samer  This  is  the  most  graphic  story 
of  a cabinet  I ever  heard,  but  I cannot  vouch  for  its  truth.  Lord  Melbourne’s 
is  a character  about  which  men  make  stories. 


84 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


This  fusion  of  the  legislative  and  executive  functions 
may,  to  those  who  have  not  much  considered  it,  seem 
but  a dry  and  small  matter  to  be  the  latent  essence  and 
effectual  secret  of  the  English  Constitution ; but  we  can 
only  judge  of  its  real  importance  by  looking  at  a few  of 
its  principal  effects,  and  contrasting  it  very  shortly  with 
its  great  competitor,  which  seems  likely,  unless  care  be 
taken,  to  outstrip  it  in  the  progress  of  the  world.  That 
competitor  is  the  Presidential  system.  The  characteristic 
of  it  is  that  the  President  is  elected  from  the  people  by 
one  process,  and  the  House  of  Eepresentatives  by  another. 
The  independence  of  the  legislative  and  executive  powers 
is  the  specific  quality  of  Presidential  Grovernment,  just 
as  their  fusion  and  combination  is  the  precise  principle  of 
Cabinet  Grovernment. 

First,  compare  the  two  in  quiet  times.  The  essence 
of  a civilised  age  is,  that  administration  requires  the  con- 
tinued aid  of  legislation.  One  principal  and  necessary 
kind  of  legislation  is  taxation.  The  expense  of  civilised 
government  is  continually  varying.  It  must  vary  if  the 
government  does  its  duty.  The  miscellaneous  estimates 
of  the  English  Grovernment  contain  an  inevitable  medley 
of  changing  items.  Education,  prison  discipline,  art, 
science,  civil  contingencies  of  a hundred  kinds,  require 
more  money  one  year  and  less  another.  The  expense  of 
defence — the  naval  and  military  estimates — vary  still 
more  as  the  danger  of  attack  seems  more  or  less  immi- 
Qent,  as  the  means  of  retarding  such  danger  become 
more  or  less  costly.  If  the  persons  who  have  to  do  the 
work  are  not  the  same  as  those  who  have  to  make  the 


THE  CABINET. 


85 


laws,  there  will  be  a controversy  between  the  two  sets  of 
persons.  The  tax-imposers  are  sure  to  quarrel  with  the 
tax-requirers.  The  executive  is  crippled  by  not  getting 
th®  laws  it  needs,  and  the  legislature  is  spoiled  by  having 
to  act  without  responsibility:  the  executive  becomes 
unfit  for  its  name  since  it  cannot  execute  what  it  decides 
on ; the  legislature  is  demoralised  by  liberty,  by  taking 
decisions  of  which  others  (and  not  itself)  will  suffer  the 
effects. 

In  America  so  much  has  this  difficulty  been  felt  that 
a semi-connection  has  grown  up  between  the  legislature 
and  the  executive.  When  the  Secretary  of  the  Treasury 
of  the  Federal  Grovernment  wants  a tax  he  consults 
upon  it  with  the  Chairman  of  the  Financial  Committee 
of  Congress.  He  cannot  go  down  to  Congress  himself 
and  propose  what  he  wants ; he  can  only  write  a letter 
and  send  it.  But  he  tries  to  get  a chairman  of  the 
Finance  Committee  who  likes  his  tax; — through  that 
chairman  he  tries  to  persuade  the  committee  to  recom- 
mend such  tax ; by  that  committee  he  tries  to  induce  the 
house  to  adopt  that  tax.  But  such  a chain  of  communi- 
cations is  liable  to  continual  interruptions ; it  may  suffice 
for  a single  tax  on  a fortunate  occasion,  but  will  scarcely 
pass  a complicated  budget — we  do  not  say  in  a war  or  a 
rebellion — we  are  now  comparing  the  cabinet  system  and 
the  presidential  system  in  quiet  times — but  in  times  of 
financial  difficulty.  Two  clever  men  never  exactly  agreed 
about  a budget.  We  have  by  present  practice  an  Indian 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  talking  English  finance  at 
Calcutta,  and  an  English  one  talking  Indian  finance  in 


56 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


England.  But  the  figures  are  never  the  same,  and  the 
views  of  policy  are  rarely  the  same.  One  most  angry 
controversy  has  amused  the  world,  and  probably  others 
scarcely  less  interesting  are  hidden  in  the  copious  stores 
of  our  Anglo-Indian  correspondence. 

But  relations  something  like  these  must  subsist  be- 
tween the  head  of  a finance  committee  in  the  legislature, 
and  a finance  minister  in  the  executive.*  They  are  sure 
to  quarrel,  and  the  result  is  sure  to  satisfy  neither.  And 
when  the  taxes  do  not  yield  as  they  were  expected  to 
yield,  who  is  responsible  ? Very  likely  the  secretary  of 
the  treasury  could  not  persuade  the  chairman — very 
likely  the  chairman  could  not  persuade  his  committee 
— very  likely  the  committee  could  not  persuade  the 
assembly.  Whom,  then,  can  you  punish — whom  can 
you  abolish — when  your  taxes  run  short?  There  is 
nobody  save  the  legislature,  a vast  miscellaneous  body 
diflBcult  to  punish,  and  the  very  persons  to  inflict  the 
punishment. 

Nor  is  the  financial  part  of  administration  the  only  one 
which  requires  in  a civilised  age  the  constant  support  and 
accompaniment  of  facilitating  legislation.  All  adminis- 
tration does  so.  In  England,  on  a vital  occasion,  the 
cabinet  can  compel  legislation  by  the  threat  of  resigna- 
tion, and  the  threat  of  dissolution ; but  neither  of  these 
can  be  used  in  a presidential  state.  There  the  legislature 
cannot  be  dissolved  by  the  executive  government ; and  it 

* It  is  worth,  observing  that  even  during  the  short  existence  of  the  Con- 
federate Government  these  evils  distinctly  showed  themselves.  Almost  the 
last  incident  at  the  Richmond  Congress  was  an  angry  financial  correspon- 
deoce  with  Jefierson  Davis. 


THE  CABINET. 


87 


does  not  heed  a resignation,  for  it  lias  not  to  find  the 
successor.  Accordingly,  when  a difference  of  opinion 
arises,  the  legislature  is  forced  to  fight  the  executive,  and 
the  executive  is  forced  to  fight  the  legislative ; and  so 
very  likely  they  contend  to  the  conclusion  of  their  respec- 
tive terms.*  There  is,  indeed,  one  condition  of  things 
in  which  this  description,  though  still  approximately 
true,  is,  nevertheless,  not  exactly  true ; and  that  is,  when 
there  is  nothing  to  fight  about.  Before  the  rebellion  in 
America,  owing  to  the  vast  distance  of  other  states,  and 
the  favourable  economical  condition  of  the  country,  there 
were  very  few  considerable  objects  of  contention ; but  if 
that  government  had  been  tried  by  the  English  legisla- 
tion of  the  last  thirty  years,  the  discordant  action  of  the 
two  powers,  whose  constant  co-operation  is  essential  to 
the  best  government,  would  have  shown  itself  much  more 
distinctly. 

Nor  is  this  the  worst.  Cabinet  government  educates 
the  nation ; the  presidential  does  not  educate  it,  and 
may  corrupt  it.  It  has  been  said  that  England  invented 
the  phrase,  ^^Her  Majesty’s  Opposition  that  it  was  the 
first  government  which  made  a criticism  of  administra- 
tion as  much  a part  of  the  polity  as  administration  itself. 
This  critical  opposition  is  the  consequence  of  cabinet 
government.  The  great  scene  of  debate,  the  great  engine 
of  popular  instruction  and  political  controversy,  is  the 
legislative  assembly.  A speech  there  by  an  eminent 

* I leave  this  passage  to  stand  as  it  was  written,  just  after  the  assassi- 
nation of  Mr.  Lincoln,  and  when  every  one  said  Johnson  would  be  very 
hostile  to  the  South. 


88 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


Btaiesman,  a party  movement  by  a great  political  com- 
bination, are  the  best  means  yet  known  for  arousing,  en- 
livening, and  teaching  a people.  The  cabinet  system 
ensures  such  debates,  for  it  makes  them  the  means  by 
which  statesmen  advertise  themselves  for  future  and  con- 
firm themselves  in  present  governments.  It  brings  for- 
ward men  eager  to  speak,  and  gives  them  occasions  to 
speak.  The  deciding  catastrophes  of  cabinet  govern- 
ments are  critical  divisions  preceded  by  fine  discussions. 
Everything  which  is  worth  saying,  everything  which  ought 
to  be  said,  most  certainly  will  be  said.  Conscientious  men 
think  they  ought  to  persuade  others ; selfish  men  think 
they  would  like  to  obtrude  themselves.  The  nation  is 
forced  to  hear  two  sides — all  the  sides,  perhaps,  of  that 
which  most  concerns  it.  And  it  likes  to  hear — it  is  eager 
to  know.  Human  nature  despises  long  arguments  which 
come  to  nothing — heavy  speeches  which  precede  no  mo- 
tion— abstract  disquisitions  which  leave  visible  things 
where  they  were.  But  all  men  heed  great  results,  and 
a change  of  government  is  a great  result.  It  has  a hun- 
dred ramifications ; it  runs  through  society ; it  gives 
hope  to  many,  and  it  takes  away  hope  from  many.  It  is 
one  of  those  marked  events  which,  by  its  magnitude  and 
its  melodrama,  impress  men  even  too  much.  And  debates 
which  have  this  catastrophe  at  the  end  of  them — or  may 
»o  have  it — are  sure  to  be  listened  to,  and  sure  to  sink 
deep  into  the  national  mind. 

Travellers  even  in  the  Northern  States  of  America,  the 
greatest  and  best  of  presidential  countries,  have  noticed 
that  the  nation  was  “ not  specially  addicted  to  politics  f 


THE  CABINET. 


89 


vhat  they  have  not  a public  opinion  finished  and  chastened 
as  that  of  the  English  has  been  finished  and  chastened. 
A great  many  hasty  writers  have  charged  this  defect  on 
the  Yankee  race,”  on  the  Anglo-American  character ; but 
English  people,  if  they  had  no  motive  to  attend  to  poli- 
tics^ certainly  would  not  attend  to  politics.  At  present 
theie  is  business  in  their  attention.  They  assist  at  the 
determining  crisis ; they  assist  or  help  it.  Whether  the 
government  will  go  out  or  remain  is  determined  by  the 
debate,  and  by  the  division  in  parliament.  And  the 
opinion  out  of  doors,  the  secret  pervading  disposition  of 
society,  has  a great  influence  on  that  division.  The  nation 
feels  that  its  judgment  is  important,  and  it  strives  to 
judge.  It  succeeds  in  deciding  because  the  debates  and 
the  discussions  give  it  the  facts  and  the  arguments.  But 
under  a presidential  government  a nation  has,  except  at 
the  electing  moment,  no  influence ; it  has  not  the  ballot- 
box  before  it ; its  virtue  is  gone,  and  it  must  wait  till  its 
instant  of  despotism  again  returns.  It  is  not  in-cited  to 
form  an  opinion  like  a nation  under  a cabinet  govern- 
ment; nor  is  it  instructed  like  such  a nation.  There 
are  doubtless  debates  in  the  legislature,  but  they  are  pro- 
logues without  a play.  There  is  nothing  of  a catastrophe 
about  them ; you  cannot  turn  out  the  government.  The 
prize  of  power  is  not  in  the  gift  of  the  legislature,  and 
no  one  cares  for  the  legislature.  The  executive,  the  great 
centre  of  power  and  place,  sticks  irremovable  ; you  cannot 
change  it  in  any  event.  The  teaching  apparatus  which 
aas  educated  our  public  mind,  which  prepares  our  reso- 
lutions, which  shapes  our  opinions,  does  not  exist.  Nc 
7 


90 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


presidential  country  needs  to  form  daily,  delicate  opinions, 
^or  is  helped  in  forming  them. 

It  might  be  thought  that  the  discussions  in  the  press  1 
would  supply  the  deficiencies  in  the  constitution ; that  by 
a reading  people  especially,  the  conduct  of  their  govern- 
ment would  be  as  carefully  watched,  that  their  opinions 
about  it  would  be  as  consistent,  as  accurate,  as  well  con- 
sidered, under  a presidential  as  under  a cabinet  polity. 
But  the  same  difficulty  oppresses  the  press  which  op- 
presses the  legislature.  It  can  do  nothing.  It  cannot 
change  the  administration  ; the  executive  was  elected  for 
such  and  such  years,  and  for  such  and  such  years  it  must 
last.  People  wonder  that  so  literary  a people  as  the 
Americans — a people  who  read  more  than  any  people  who 
ever  lived,  who  read  so  many  newspapers — should  have 
such  bad  newspapers.  The  papers  are  not  so  good  as  the 
English,  because  they  have  not  the  same  motive  to  be 
good  as  the  English  papers.  At  a political  crisis,”  as 
we  say — that  is,  when  the  fate  of  an  administration  is 
unfixed,  when  it  depends  on  a few  votes,  yet  unsettled, 
upon  a wavering  and  veering  opinion — effective  articles 
in  great  journals  become  of  essential  moment.  The  Times 
has  made  many  ministries.  When,  as  of  late,  there  has 
been  a long  continuance  of  divided  parliaments,  of  govern- 
ments which  were  without  “ brute  voting  power,”  and 
which  depended  on  intellectual  strength,  the  support  of 
the  most  influential  organ  of  English  opinion  has  been 
of  critical  moment.  If  a Washington  newspaper  could 
aave  turned  out  Mr.  Lincoln,  there  would  have  been  good 
writing  and  fine  argument  in  the  Washington  newspapers. 


THE  CABINET. 


91 


But  the  Washington  newspapers  can  no  more  remove  a ( 
president  during  his  term  of  place  than  the  Times  can 
remove  a lord  mayor  during  his  year  of  office.  Nobody 
cares  for  a debate  in  Congress  which  comes  to  nothing,” 
and  no  one  reads  long  articles  which  have  no  influence  on 
events.  The  Americans  glance  at  the  heads  of  news,  and 
through  the  paper.  They  do  not  enter  upon  a discussion. 
They  do  not  think  of  entering  upon  a discussion  which  > 
would  be  useless. 

After  saying  that  the  division  of  the  legislature  and  the 
executive  in  presidential  governments  weakens  the  legis- 
lative power,  it  may  seem  a contradiction  to  say  that  it 
also  weakens  the  executive  power.  But  it  is  not  a con- 
tradiction. The  division  weakens  the  whole  aggregate 
force  of  government — the  entire  imperial  power;  and 
therefore  it  weakens  both  its  halves.  The  executive  is 
weakened  in  a very  plain  way.  In  England  a strong 
cabinet  can  obtain  the  concurrence  of  the  legislature  in 
all  acts  which  facilitate  its  administration ; it  is  itself,  so 
to  say,  the  legislature.  But  a president  may  be  hampered 
by  the  parliament,  and  is  likely  to  be  hampered.  The 
natural  tendency  of  the  members  of  every  legislature  is 
to  make  themselves  conspicuous.  They  wish  to  gratify 
an  ambition  laudable  or  blamable ; they  wish  to  promote 
the  measures  they  think  best  for  the  public  welfare  ; they 
wish  to  make  their  will  felt  in  great  affairs.  All  these 
mixed  motives  urge  them  to  oppose  the  executive.  They 
are  embodying  the  purposes  of  others  if  they  aid ; they 
are  advancing  their  own  opinions  if  they  defeat : they  are 
first  if  they  vanquish ; they  are  auxiliaries  if  they  sup- 


92 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


port.  The  weakness  of  the  American  executive  used  to 
be  the  great  theme  of  all  critics  before  the  Confederate 
rebellion.  Congress  and  committees  of  Congress  of  course 
impeded  the  executive  when  there  was  no  coercive  public 
sentiment  to  check  and  rule  them. 

But  the  presidential  system  not  only  gives  the  exe- 
cutive power  an  antagonist  in  J:he  legislative  power,  and 
so  makes  it  weaker  ; it  also  enfeebles  it  by  impairing  its 
intrinsic  quality.  A cabinet  is  elected  by  a legislature ; 
and  when  that  legislature  is  composed  of  fit  persons,  that 
mode  of  electing  the  executive  is  the  very  best.  It  is  a 
case  of  secondary  election,  under  the  only  conditions  in 
which  secondary  election  is  preferable  to  primary.  Gene- 
rally  speaking,  in  an  electioneering  country  (I  mean  in  a 
country  full  of  political  life,  and  used  to  the  manipulation 
of  popular  institutions),  the  election  of  candidates  to  elect 
candidates  is  a farce.  The  Electoral  College  of  America 
is  so.  It  was  intended  that  the  deputies  when  assembled 
should  exercise  a real  discretion,  and  by  independent 
choice  select  the  president.  But  the  primary  electors 
take  too  much  interest.  They  only  elect  a deputy  to  vote 
for  Mr.  Lincoln  or  Mr.  Breckenridge,  and  the  deputy 
only  takes  a ticket,  and  drops  that  ticket  in  an  urn.  He 
never  chooses  or  thinks  of  choosing.  He  is  but  a mes- 
senger— a transmitter  : the  real  decision  is  in  those  who 
chose  him — who  chose  him  because  they  knew  what  he 
would  do. 

It  is  true  that  the  British  House  of  Commons  is  sub- 
ject to  the  same  influences.  Members  are  mostly,  perhaps, 
elected  because  they  will  vote  for  a particular  ministry, 


THE  CABINET. 


93 


rather  than  for  purely  legislative  reasons.  But — and 
here  is  the  capital  distinction — the  functions  of  the  House 
of  Commons  are  important  and  continuous.  It  does  not, 
like  the  Electoral  College  in  the  United  States,  separate 
when  it  has  elected  its  ruler ; it  watches,  legislates,  seats 
and  unseats  ministries,  f m day  to  day.  Accordingly  it 
is  a real  electoral  body.  jJhe  parliament  of  1857,  which, 
more  than  any  other  parliament  of  late  years,  was  a par- 
liament elected  to  support  a particular  premier — which 
was  chosen,  as  Americans  might  say,  upon  the  Palmer- 
ston ticket” — before  it  had  been  in  existence  two  years, 
dethroned  Lord  Palmerston.  Though  selected  in  the 
interest  of  a particular  ministry,  it  in  fact  destroyed  that 
ministry. 

A good  parliament,  too,  is  a capital  choosing  body.  If 
it  is  fit  to  make  laws  for  a country,  its  majority  ought  to 
represent  the  general  average  intelligence  of  that  country ; 
its  various  members  ought  to  represent  the  various  special 
interests,  special  opinions,  special  prejudices,  to  be  found 
in  that  community.  There  ought  to  be  an  advocate  for 
every  particular  sect,  and  a vast  neutral  body  of  no  sect 
— homogeneous  and  judicial,  like  the  nation  itself.  Such 
a body,  when  possible,  is  the  best  selecter  of  executives 
that  can  be  imagined.  It  is  full  of  political  activity ; it 
is  close  to  political  life;  it  feels  the  responsibility  of 
affairs  which  are  brought  as  it  were  to  its  threshold ; it 
has  as  much  intelligence  as  the  society  in  question  chances 
to  contain.  It  is,  what  Washington  and  Hamilton  strove 
to  create,  an  electoral  college  of  the  picked  men  of  the 
nation. 


u 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION, 


The  best  mode  of  appreciating  its  advantages  is  to  look 
at  the  alternative.  The  competing  constituency  is  the 
nation  itself,  and  this  is,  according  to  theory  and  ex- 
perience, in  all  but  the  rarest  cases,  a bad  constituency. 
Mr.  Lincoln,  at  his  second  election,  being  elected  when 
all  the  Federal  states  had  set  their  united  hearts  on  one 
single  object,  was  voluntarily  re-elected  by  an  actually 
choosing  nation.  He  embodied  the  object  in  which  every 
one  was  absorbed.  But  this  is  almost  the  only  presidential 
election  of  which  so  much  can  hs  said.  In  almost  all 
cases  the  President  is  chosen  by  a machinery  of  caucuses 
and  combinations  too  complicated  to  be  perfectly  known, 
and  too  familiar  to  require  description.  He^is  not  the 
choice  of  the  nation,  he  is  the  choice  of  the  wire-pullers. 
A very  large  constituency  in  quiet  times  is  the  necessary, 
almost  the  legitimate,  subject  of  electioneering  manage- 
ment : a man  cannot  know  that  he  does  not  (throw  his 
vote  away  except  he  votes  as  part  of  some  great  organisa- 
tion ; and  if  he  votes  as  a part,  he  abdicates  his  electoral 
function  in  favour  of  the  managers  of  that  association. 
The  nation,  even  if  it  chose  for  itself,  would,  in  some 
degree,  be  an  unskilled  body;  but  when  it  does  not 
choose  for  itself,  but  only  as  latent  agitators  wish,  it  is 
like  a large,  lazy  man,  with  a small,  vicious  mind, — it 
moves  slowly  and  heavily,  but  it  moves  at  the  bidding  of 
a bad  intention ; it  means  little,  but  it  means  that 
little  iii:^ 

And,  as  the  nation  is  less  able  to  choose  than  a par- 
liament, so  it  has  worse  people  to  choose  out  of.  The 
/American  legislators  of  the  last  century  have  been  much 


THE  CABINET. 


95 


blamed  for  not  permitting  the  ^’'linisters  of  the  Piesident 
to  be  members  of  the  Assembly ; but,  with  reference  to 
the  specific  end  which  they  had  in  view,  they  saw  clearly 
and  decided  wisely.  They  wished  to  keep  the  legislative 
branch  absolutely  distinct  from  the  executive  branch 
they  believed  such  a separation  to  be  essential  to  a good 
constitution ; they  believed  such  a separation  to  exist  in 
the  English,  which  the  wisest  of  them  thought  the  best 
constitution.  And,  to  the  effectual  maintenance  of  such 
a separation,  the  exclusion  of  the  President’s  ministers 
from  the  legislature  is  essential.  If  they  are  not  ex- 
cluded they  become  the  executive,  they  eclipse  the  Pre- 
sident himself.  A legislative  chamber  is  greedy  and 
covetous;  it  acquires  as  much,  it  concedes  as  little  as 
possible.  The  passions  of  its  members  are  its  rulers ; the 
law-making  faculty,  the  most  comprehensive  of  the  im- 
perial faculties,  is  its  instrument;  it  will  taJce  the  admi- 
nistration if  it  can  take  it.  Tried  by  their  own  aims,  the 
founders  of  the  United  States  were  wise  in  excluding  the 
ministers  from  Congress. 

But  though  this  exclusion  is  essential  to  the  pre- 
sidential system  of  government,  it  is  not  for  that  rea- 
son a small  evil.  It  causes  the  degradation  of  public 
life.  Unless  a member  of  the  legislature  be  sure  of 
something  more  than  speech,  unless  he  is  incited  by 
the  hope  of  action,  and  chastened  by  the  chance  of 
responsibility,  a first-rate  man  will  not  care  to  take  the 
place,  and  will  not  do  much  if  he  does  take  it.  To 
belong  to  a debating  society  adhering  to  an  executive 
'and  this  is  no  inapt  description  of  a congress  under  a 


96 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


presidential  constitution)  is  not  an  object  to  stir  a noble 
ambition,  and  is  a position  to  encourage  idleness.  The 
members  of  a parliament  excluded  from  office  can  never 
be  comparable,  much  less  equal,  to  those  of  a parliament 
not  excluded  from  office.  The  presidential  government, 
by  its  nature,  divides  political  life  into  two  halves,  an 
executive  half  and  a legislative  half ; and,  by  so  dividing 
it,  makes  neither  half  worth  a man’s  having — worth  his 
making  it  a continuous  career — worthy  to  absorb,  as 
cabinet  government  absorbs,  his  whole  soul.  The  states- 
men from  whom  a nation  chooses  under  a presidential 
system  are  much  inferior  to  those  from  whom  it  chooses 
under  a cabinet  system,  while  the  selecting  apparatus  is 
also  far  less  discerning. 

All  these  differences  are  more  important  at  critica? 
periods^^  because  government  itself  is  more  important.  / 
formed  public  opinion,  a respectable,  able,  and  disciplined 
legislature,  a well-chosen  executive,  a parliament  and  an 
administration  not  thwarting  each  other,  but  co-operating 
with  each  other,  are  of  greater  consequence  when  greaV. 
affairs  are  in  progress  than  when  small  affairs  are  in 
progress — when  there  is  much  to  do  than  when  there  ii 
little  to  do.  But  in  addition  to  this,  a parliamentary  or 
cabinet  constitution  possesses  an  additional  and  special 
advantage  in  very  dangerous  times.  It  has  what  we 
may  call  a reserve  of  power  fit  for  and  needed  by  extreme 
exigencies. 

The  principle  of  popular  government  is  that  the  supreme 
power,  the  determining  efficacy  in  matters  political,  resides 
Id  the  people — not  necessarily  or  commonly  in  the  whole 


THE  CABINET. 


97 


people,  in  the  numerical  majority,  but  in  a chosen  people, 
a picked  and  selected  people.  It  is  so  in  England  ; it  is 
BO  in  all  free  countries.  Under  a cabinet  constitution  at 
a sudden  emergency  this  people  can  choose  a ruler  for  the 
occasion.  It  is  quite  possible  and  even  likely  that  he 
would  not  be  ruler  before  the  occasion.  The  great  quali- 
ties, the  imperio  us  will,  the  rapid  energy,  the  eager  nature 
fit  for  a great  crisis  are  not  required — are  impediments — 
in  common  times.  A Lord  Liverpool  is  better  in  every- 
day politics  than  a Chatham — a Louis  Philippe  far  better 
than  a Napoleon.  By  the  structure  of  the  world  we  often 
want,  at  the  sudden  occurrence  of  a grave  tempest,  to 
change  the  helmsman — to  replace  the  pilot  of  the  calm 
by  the  pilot  of  the  storm.  In  England  we  have  had  so 
few  catastrophes  since  our  constitution  attained  maturity, 
that  we  hardly  appreciate  this  latent  excellence.  We  have 
not  needed  a Cavour  to  rule  a revolution — a representative 
man  above  all  men  fit  for  a great  occasion,  and  by  a 
natural,  legal  mode  brought  in  to  rule.  But  even  in 
England,  at  what  was  the  nearest  to  a great  sudden  crisis 
which  we  have  had  of  late  years — at  the  Crimean  diflSculty 
— we  used  this  inherent  power.  We  abolished  the 
Aberdeen  cabinet,  the  ablest  we  have  had,  perhaps,  since 
the  Eeform  Act — a cabinet  not  only  adapted,  but 
eminently  adapted,  for  every  sort  of  difficulty  save  the 
one  it  had  to  meet — which  abounded  in  pacific  discretion, 
and  was  wanting  only  in  the  “daemonic  element;”  we 
chose  a statesman  who  had  the  sort  of  merit  then  wanted, 
who,  when  he  feels  the  steady  power  of  England  behind 
him,  will  advance  without  reluctance,  and  will  strike  with- 


98 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


out  restraint.  As  was  said  at  the  time,  “We  turned  out 
the  Quaker,  and  put  in  the  pugilist.” 

But  under  a presidential  government  you  can  do  nothing 
of  the  kind.  The  American  government  calls  itself  a 
government  of  the  supreme  people;  but  at  a quick  crisis, 
the  time  when  a sovereign  poWer  is  most  needed,  you 
cannot  find  the  supreme  people.  You  have  got  a Congress 
elected  for  one  fixed  period,  going  out  ]3erhaps  by  fixed 
instalments,  which  cannot  be  accelerated  or  retarded — 
you  have  a President  chosen  for  a fixed  period,  and  im- 
movable during  that  period : all  the  arrangements  are  for 
stated  times.  There  is  no  elastic  element,  everything  is 
rigid,  specified,  dated.  Come  what  may,  you  can  quicken 
nothing  and  can  retard  nothing.  You  have  bespoken 
your  government  in  advance,  and  whether  it  suits  you  or 
not,  whether  it  works  well  or  works  ill,  whether  it  is  what 
you  want  or  not,  by  law  you  must  keep  it.  In  a country 
of  complex  foreign  relations  it  would  mostly  happen  that 
the  first  and  most  critical  year  of  every  war  would  be 
managed  by  a peace  premier,  and  the  first  and  most 
critical  years  of  peace  by  a war  premier.  In  each  case  the 
period  of  transition  would  be  irrevocably  governed  by  a 
man  selected  not  for  what  he  was  to  introduce,  but  what 
he  was  to  change — for  the  policy  he  was  to  abandon,  not 
for  the  policy  he  was  to  administer. 

The  whole  history  of  the  American  civil  war — a history 
which  has  thrown  an  intense  light  on  the  working  of  a 
presidential  government  at  the  time  when  government  ia 
most  important — is  but  a vast  continuous  commentary  on 
these  reflections.  It  would,  indeed,  be  absurd  to  presf 


THE  CABINET. 


99 


against  presidental  government  as  such  the  singular 
defect  by  which  Vice-President  Johnson  has  become 
President — by  which  a man  elected  to  a sinecure  is  fixed 
in  what  is  for  the  moment  the  most  important  adminis- 
trative part  in  the  political  world.  This  defect,  though 
most  characteristic  of  the  expectations*  of  the  framers  of 
the  constitution  and  of  its  working,  is  but  an  accident  of 
this  particular  case  of  presidential  government,  and  no 
necessary  ingredient  in  that  government  itself.  But  the 
first  election  of  Mr.  Lincoln  is  liable  to  no  such  objection. 
It  was  a characteristic  instance  of  the  natural  working  of 
such  a government  upon  a great  occasion.  And  what  was 
that  working  ? It  may  be  summed  up — it  was  govern- 
ment by  an  unknown  quantity.  Hardly  any  one  in  ^ 
America  had  any  living  idea  what  Mr.  Lincoln  was  like, 
or  any  definite  notion  what  he  would  do.  The  leading 
statesmen  under  the  system  of  cabinet  government  are 
not  only  household  words,  but  household  ideas.  A con- 
ception, not,  perhaps,  in  all  respects  a true  but  a most 
vivid  conception,  what  Mr.  Gladstone  is  like,  or  what 
Lord  Palmerston  is  like,  runs  through  society.  We  have 
simply  no  notion  what  it  would  be  to  be  left  with  the 
visible  sovereignty  in  the  hands  of  an  unknown  man. 
The  notion  of  employing  a man  of  unknown  smallness  at 
a crisis  of  unknown  greatness  is  to  our  minds  simply 
ludicrous.  Mr.  Lincoln,  it  is  true,  happened  to  be  a man, 

* The  framers  of  the  constitution  expected  that  the  wee-president  would 
b«  elected  by  the  Electoral  College  as  the  second  wisest  man  in  the  country. 
The  vice-presidentship  being  a sinecure,  a second-rate  man  agreeable  to  the 
wire-pullers  is  always  smuggled  in.  The  chance  of  succession  to  the 
prsaiidentship  is  too  distant  to  be  thought  of. 


100 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


if  not  of  eminent  ability,  yet  of  eminent  justness.  There 
was  an  inner  depth  of  Puritan  nature  which  came  out 
under  suffering,  and  was  very  attractive.  But  success  in 
a lottery  is  no  argument  for  lotteries.  What  were  the 
chances  against  a person  of  Lincoln’s  antecedents,  elected 
as  he  was,  proving  to  be  what  he  was  ? 

Such  an  incident  is,  however,  natural  to  a presidential 
government.  The  President  is  elected  by  processes  which 
forbid  the  election  of  known  men,  except  at  peculiar  con- 
junctures, and  in  moments  when  public  opinion  is  excited 
and  despotic  ; and  consequently,  if  a crisis  comes  upon  us 
soon  after  he  is  elected,  inevitably  we  have  government 
by  an  unknown  quantity — the  superintendence  of  that 
crisis  by  what  our  great  satirist  would  have  called 
^‘Statesman  X.”  Even  in  quiet  times,  government  by  a 
president  is,  for  the  several  various  reasons  which  have 
been  stated,  inferior  to  government  by  a cabinet ; but  the 
difficulty  of  quiet  times  is  nothing  as  compared  with  the 
difficulty  of  unquiet  times.  The  comparative  deficiencies 
of  the  regular,  common  operation  of  a presidential  govern- 
ment are  far  less  than  the  comparative  deficiencies 
in  time  of  sudden  trouble — the  want  of  elasticity,  the 
impossibility  of  a dictatorship,  the  total  absence  of  a 
revolutionary  reserve. 

This  contrast  explains  why  the  characteristic  quality  of 
cabinet  governments — the  fusion  of  the  exec^ktive  power 
with  the  legislative  power — is  of  such  cardinal  importance. 
I shall  proceed  to  show  under  what  form  and  with  what 
adjuncts  it  exists  in  England. 


UL 


THE  MONAKCHT. 

The  use  of  the  Queen,  in  a dignified  capacity,  is  incal- 
culable. Without  her  in  England,  the  present  English 
Government  would  fail  and  pass  away.  Most  people 
when  they  read  that  the  Queen  walked  on  the  slopes  at 
Windsor — that  the  Prince  of  Wales  went  to  the  Derby 
— have  imagined  that  too  much  thought  and  prominence 
were  given  to  little  things.  But  they  have  been  in  error  ; 
and  it  is  nice  to  trace  how  the  actions  of  a retired  widow 
and  an  unemployed  youth  become  of  such  importance. 

The  best  reason  why  Monarchy  is  a strong  government 
is,  that  it  is  an  intelligible  government.  The  mass  of 
mankind  understand  it,  and  they  hardly  anywhere  in  the 
world  understand  any  other.  It  is  often  said  that  men 
are  ruled  by  their  imaginations ; but  it  would  be  truer 
to  say  they  are  governed  by  the  weakness  of  their  imagi- 
nations. The  nature  of  a constitution,  the  action  of  an^* 
assembly,  the  play  of  parties,  the  unseen  formation  of  a 
guiding  opinion,  are  complex  facts,  difficult  to  know,  and 
easy  to  mistake.  But  the  action  of  a single  will,  the  fiat 
of  a single  mind,  are  easy  ideas : anybody  can  make  them 
out,  and  no  one  can  ever  forget  them.  When  you  put 


102 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


before  the  mass  of  mankind  the  question,  “ Will  you  be 
governed  by  a king,  or  will  you  be  governed  by  a consti- 
tution?” the  inquiry  comes  out  thus — Will  you  be  go- 
verned in  a way  you  understand,  or  will  you  be  governed 
in  a way  you  do  not  understand?”  The  issue  was  put  to 
the  French  people;  they  were  asked,  •‘Will  you  be  go- 
verned by  Louis  Napoleon,  or  will  you  be  governed  by  an 
assembly?”  The  French  people  said,  “We  will  be 
governed  by  the  one  man  we  can  imagine,  and  not  by  the 
many  people  we  cannot  imagine.” 

The  best  mode  of  comprehending  the  nature  of  the  two 
governments,  is  to  look  at  a country  in  which  the  two 
have  within  a comparatively  short  space  of  years  succeeded 
each  other. 

“ The  political  condition,”  says  Mr.  Grrote,  “ which 
Grecian  legend  everywhere  presents  to  us,  is  in  its  prin- 
cipal features  strikingly  different  from  that  which  had 
become  universally  prevalent  among  the  Greeks  in  the 
time  of  the  Peloponnesian  war.  Historical  oligarchy,  as 
well  as  democracy,  agreed  in  requiring  a certain  established 
system  of  government,  comprising  the  three  elements  of 
specialised  functions,  temporary  functionaries,  and  ulti- 
mate responsibility  (under  some  forms  or  other)  to  the 
mass  of  qualified  citizens — either  a Senate  or  an  Ecclesia, 
or  both.  There  were,  of  course,  many  and  capital  dis- 
tinctions between  one  government  and  another,  in  respect 
to  the  qualification  of  the  citizen,  the  attributes  and  effi- 
ciency of  the  general  assembly,  the  admissibility  to  power, 
&c. ; and  men  might  oft«  n be  dissatisfied  with  the  way 
in  which  these  questions  were  determined  in  their  own 


THE  MONARCHY. 


103 


city.  But  in  the  mind  of  every  man,  some  determining 
rule  or  system — something  like  what  in  modern  times  is 
called  a constitution — was  indispensable  to  any  govern- 
ment entitled  to  be  called  legitimate,  or  capable  of 
creating  in  the  mind  of  a Greek  a feeling  of  moral  obli- 
gation to  obey  it.  The  functionaries  who  exercise  autho- 
rity under  it  might  be  more  or  less  competent  or  popular ; 
but  his  personal  feelings  towards  them  were  commonly 
lost  in  his  attachment  or  aversion  to  the  general  system. 
If  any  energetic  man  could  by  audacity  or  craft  break 
down  the  constitution,  and  render  himself  permanent  ruler 
according  to  his  own  will  and  pleasure,  even  though  he 
might  govern  well,  he  could  never  inspire  the  people  with 
any  sentiment  of  duty  towards  him : his  sceptre  was  ille- 
gitimate from  the  beginning,  and  even  the  taking  of  his 
life,  far  from  being  interdicted  by  that  moral  feeling  which 
condemned  the  shedding  of  blood  in  other  cases,  was 
considered  meritorious : he  could  not  even  be  mentioned 
in  the  language  except  by  a name  {rvpawos^  despot)  which 
branded  him  as  an  object  of  mingled  fear  and  dislike. 

“ If  we  carry  our  eyes  back  from  historical  to  legen- 
dary Greece,  we  find  a picture  the  reverse  of  what  has 
been  here  sketched.  We  discern  a government  in  which 
there  is  little  or  no  scheme  or  system,  still  less  any  idea 
of  responsibility  to  the  governed,  but  in  which  the  main- 
spring of  obedience  on  the  part  of  the  people  consists  in 
their  personal  feeling  and  reverence  towards  the  chief. 
We  remark,  first  and  foremost,  the  King  ; next  a limited 
number  of  subordinate  kings  or  chiefs;  afterwards,  the 
mass  of  armed  freemen,  husbandmen,  artisans,  freebooters, 


104 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


&c. ; lowest  of  all,  tlie  free  labourers  for  hire  and  the 
bought  slaves.  The  King  is  not  distinguished  by  any 
broad,  or  impassable  boundary  from  the  other  chiefs,  to 
each  of  whom  the  title  Basileus  is  applicable  as  well  as 
to  himself : his  supremacy  has  been  inherited  from  his 
ancestors,  and  passes  by  inheritance,  as  a general  rule,  to 
his  eldest  son,  having  been  conferred  upon  the  family  as 
a privilege  by  the  favour  of  Zeus.  In  war,  he  is  the 
leader,  foremost  in  personal  prowess,  and  directing  all 
military  movements;  in  peace,  he  is  the  general  protector 
of  the  injured  and  oppressed  ; he  offers  up  moreover  those 
public  prayers  and  sacrifices  which  are  intended  to  obtain 
for  the  whole  people  the  favour  of  the  gods.  An  ample 
domain  is  assigned  to  him  as  an  appurtenance  of  his  lofty 
position,  and  the  produce  of  his  fields  and  his  cattle  is 
consecrated  in  part  to  an  abundant,  though  rude  hospi- 
tality. Moreover  he  receives  frequent  presents,  to  avert 
his  enmity,  to  conciliate  his  favour,  or  to  buy  off  his  ex- 
actions ; and  when  plunder  is  taken  from  the  enemy,  a 
large  previous  share,  comprising  probably  the  most  allur- 
ing female  captive,  is  reserved  for  him  apart  from  the 
general  distribution. 

“ Such  is  the  position  of  the  King  in  the  heroic  times 
of  Grreece—  the  only  person  (if  we  except  the  heralds  and 
priests,  each  both  special  and  subordinate)  who  is  then 
presented  to  us  as  clothed  with  any  individual  authority 
— the  person  by  whom  all  the  executive  functions,  then 
few  in  number,  which  the  society  requires,  are  either  per- 
formed or  directed.  His  personal  ascendancy — derived 
from  divine  countenance  bestowed  both  upon  himself  in- 


THE  MONAKCHY. 


105 


dividually  and  upon  his  race,  and  probably  from  accredited 
divine  descent — is  the  salient  feature  in  the  picture  : the 
people  hearken  to  his  voice,  embrace  his  propositions,  and 
obey  his  orders : not  merely  resistance,  but  even  criticism 
upon  his  acts,  is  generally  exhibited  in  an  odious  point  of 
view,  and  is  indeed  never  heard  of  except  from  some  one 
or  niore  of  the  subordinate  princes.” 

The  characteristic  of  the  English  Monarchy  is  that  it 
retains  the  feelings  by  which  the  heroic  kings  governed 
their  rude  age,  and  has  added  the  feelings  by  which  the 
constitutions  of  later  Greece  ruled  in  more  refined  ages. 
We  are  a more  mixed  people  than  the  Athenians,  or  pro- 
bably than  any  political  Greeks.  We  have  progressed 
more  unequally.  The  slaves  in  ancient  times  were  a 
separate  order ; not  ruled  by  the  same  laws,  or  thoughts, 
as  other  men.  It  was  not  necessary  to  think  of  them  in 
making  a constitution : it  was  not  necessary  to  improve 
them  in  order  to  make  a constitution  possible.  The  Greek 
legislator  had  not  to  combine  in  his  polity  men  like  the 
labourers  of  Somersetshire,  and  men  like  Mr.  Grote.  He 
had  not  to  deal  with  a community  in  which  primitive 
barbarism  lay  as  a recognised  basis  to  acquired  civilisation. 
We  have.  We  have  no  slaves  to  keep  down  by  special 
terrors  and  independent  legislation.  But  we  have  whole 
classes  unable  to  comprehend  the  idea  of  a constitution 
— unable  to  feel  the  least  attachment  to  impersonal  laws  , 
Most  do  indeed  vaguely  know  that  there  are  some  other 
institutions  besides  the  Queen,  and  some  rules  by  which 
she  governs.  But  a vast  number  like  their  minds  to  dwell 
more  upon  her  than  upon  anything  else,  and  therefore 
8 


106 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


she  is  inestimable.  A Eepublic  has  only  difficult  ideas 
in  government ; a Constitutional  Monarchy  has  an  easy 
idea  too  ; it  has  a comprehensible  element  for  the  vacant 
many,  as  well  as  complex  laws  and  notions  for  the  inquir- 
ing few. 

A family  on  the  throne  is  an  interesting  idea  also.  It 
brings  down  the  pride  of  sovereignty  to  the  level  of  petty 
life.  No  feeling  could  seem  more  childish  than  the  en- 
thusiasm of  the  English  at  the  marriage  of  the  Prince 
of  Wales.  They  treated  as  a great  political  event,  what, 
looked  at  as  a matter  of  pure  business,  was  very  small 
indeed.  But  no  feeling  could  be  more  like  common 
human  nature  as  it  is,  and  as  it  is  likely  to  be.  The 
women — one  half  the  human  race  at  least — care  fifty 
times  more  for  a marriage  than  a ministry.  All  but  a 
few  cynics  like  to  see  a pretty  novel  touching  for  a mo- 
ment  the  dry  scenes  of  the  grave  world.  A princely  mar- 
riage is  the  brilliant  edition  of  a universal  fact,  and  as 
such,  it  rivets  mankind.  We  smile  at  the  Court  Circular ; 
but  remember  how  many  people  read  the  Court  Circular  ! 
Its  use  is  not  in  what  it  says,  but  in  those  to  whom  it 
speaks.  They  say  that  the  Americans  were  more  pleased 
at  the  Queen’s  letter  to  Mrs.  Lincoln,  than  at  any  act 
of  the  English  Grovernment.  It  was  a spontaneous  act 
of  intelligible  feeling  in  the  midst  of  confused  and 
tiresome  business.  Just  so  a royal  family  sweetens  poli- 
tics by  the  seasonable  addition  of  nice  and  pretty  events. 
It  introduces  irrelevant  facts  into  the  business  of  govern- 
ment, but  they  are  tacts  which  speak  to  “ men’s  bosoms'' 
and  employ  their  thoughts. 


THE  MONARCHY. 


107 


To  state  the  matter  shortly,  Eoyalty  is  a goveinment  in 
which  the  attention  of  the  nation  is  concentrated  on  one 
person  doing  interesting  actions.  A Eepublic  is  a govern- 
ment in  which  that  attention  is  divided  between  many, 
who  are  all  doing  uninteresting  actions.  Accordingly,  so 
long  as  the  human  heart  is  strong  and  the  human  reason 
weak,  Eoyalty  will  be  strong  because  it  appeals  to  diffused 
feeling,  and  Eepublics  weak  because  they  appeal  to  the 
understanding. 

Secondly.  The  English  Monarchy  strengthens  our 
government  with  the  strength  of  religion.  It  is  not  easy 
to  say  why  it  should  be  so.  Every  instructed  theologian 
would  say  that  it  was  the  duty  of  a person  born  under  a 
Eepublic  as  much  to  obey  that  Eepublic  as  it  is  the  dutj 
of  one  born  under  a Monarchy  to  obey  the  monarch.  Bui 
the  mass  of  the  English  people  do  not  think  so  ; they 
agree  with  the  oath  of  allegiance  ; they  say  it  is  their 
duty  to  obey  the  Queen  and  they  have  but  hazy 
notions  as  to  obeying  laws  without  a queen.  In  former 
times,  when  our  constitution  was  incomplete,  this  notion 
of  local  holiness  in  one  part  was  mischievous.  All  parts 
were  struggling,  and  it  was  necessary  each  should  have  its 
full  growth.  But  superstition  said  one  should  grow  where 
it  would,  and  no  other  part  should  grow  without  its  leave. 
The  whole  cavalier  party  said  it  was  their  duty  to  obey 
the  King,  whatever  the  king  did.  There  was  to  be 
“ passive  obedience  ” to  him,  and  there  was  no  religious 
obedience  due  to  any  one  else.  He  was  the  ‘‘Lord’s 
anointed,”  and  no  one  else  had  been  anointed  at  all.  The 
parliament,  the  laws,  the  press  were  human  institutions  < 


108 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


but  the  Monarchy  was  a Divine  institution.  An  undue 
advantage  was  given  to  a part  of  the  constitution,  and 
therefore  the  progress  of  the  whole  was  stayed. 

After  the  Eevolution  this  naischievous  sentiment  was 
much  weaker.  The  change  of  the  line  of  sovereigns  was 
at  first  conclusive.  If  there  was  a mystic  right  in  any 
one,  that  right  was  plainly  in  James  II. ; if  it  was  an 
English  duty  to  obey  any  one  whatever  he  did,  he  was  the 
person  to  be  so  obeyed  ; if  there  was  an  inherent  inherited 
claim  in  any  king,  it  was  in  the  Stuart  king  to  whom  the 
crown  had  come  by  descent,  and  not  in  the  Eevolution 
king  to  whom  it  had  come  by  vote  of  Parliament.  All 
through  the  reign  of  William  III.  there  was  (in  com- 
mon speech)  one  king  whom  man  had  made,  and  another 
king  whom  Grod  had  made.  The  king  who  ruled  had 
no  consecrated  loyalty  to  build  upon ; although  he 
ruled  in  fact,  according  to  sacred  theory  there  was  a 
king  in  France  who  ought  to  rule.  But  it  was  very  hard 
for  the  English  people,  with  their  plain  sense  and  slow 
imagination,  to  keep  up  a strong  sentiment  of  veneration 
for  a foreign  adventurer.  He  lived  under  the  protection 
of  a French  king  ; what  he  did  was  commonly  stupid,  and 
what  he  left  undone  was  very  often  wise.  As  soon  as 
Queen  Anne  began  to  reign  there  was  a change  of  feeling ; 
the  old  sacred  sentiment  began  to  cohere  about  her. 
There  were  indeed  difficulties  which  would  have  baffled 
most  people;  but  an  Englishman  whose  heart  is  in  a 
matter  is  not  easily  baffled.  Queen  Anne  had  a brother 
kiving  and  a father  living,  and  by  every  rule  of  descent, 
their  right  was  better  than  hers.  But  many  people  evaded 


THE  MONARCHY. 


109 


ooth  claims.  They  said  James  II.  had  run  away,”  and 
so  abdicated,  though  he  only  ran  away  because  he  was  in 
duresse  and  was  frightened,  and  though  he  claimed  the 
allegiance  of  his  subjects  day  by  day.  The  Pretender,  it 
was  said,  was  not  legitimate,  though  the  birth  was  proved 
by  evidence  which  any  Court  of  Justice  would  have 
accepted.  The  English  people  were  out  of”  a sacred 
monarch,  and  so  they  tried  very  hard  to  make  a new  one. 
Events,  however,  were  too  strong  for  them.  They  were 
ready  and  eager  to  take  Queen  Anne  as  the  stock  of  a 
new  dynasty ; they  were  ready  to  ignore  the  claims  of  her 
father  and  the  claims  of  her  brother,  but  they  could  not 
ignore  the  fact  that  at  the  critical  period  she  had  no 
children.  She  had  once  had  thirteen,  but  they  all  died  in 
her  lifetime,  and  it  was  necessary  either  to  revert  to  the 
Stuarts  or  to  make  a new  king  by  Act  of  Parliament. 

According  to  the  Act  of  Settlement  passed  by  the 
Whigs,  the  crown  was  settled  on  the  descendants  of  the 
Princess  Sophia  ” of  Hanover,  a younger  daughter  of  a 
daughter  of  James  I.  There  were  before  her  James  II., 
his  son,  the  descendants  of  a daughter  of  Charles  I.,  and 
elder  children  of  her  own  mother.  But  the  Whigs  passed 
these  over  because  they  were  Catholics,  and  selected  the 
Princess  Sophia,  who,  if  she  was  anything,  was  a Protest- 
ant. Certainly  this  selection  was  statesmanlike,  but  it 
could  not  be  very  popular.  It  was  quite  impossible  to  say 
that  it  was  the  duty  of  the  English  people  to  obey  the 
House  of  Hanover  upon  any  principles  which  do  not 
concede  the  right  of  the  people  to  choose  their  rulers,  and 
which  do  not  degrade  monarchy  from  its  solitary  pinnacle 


no 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


of  majestic  reverence,  and  make  it  one  only  among  many 
expedient  institutions.  If  a king  is  a useful  public  func- 
tionary who  may  be  changed,  and  in  whose  place  you  may 
make  another,  you  cannot  regard  him  with  mystic  awe  and 
wonde? ; and  if  you  are  bound  to  worship  him,  of  course 
you  cannot  change  him.  Accordingly,  during  the  whole 
"^reigns  of  George  I.  and  George  II.  the  sentiment  of 
religious  loyalty  altogether  ceased  to  support  the  Crown. 
The  prerogative  of  the  king  had  no  strong  party  to 
support  it;  the  Tories,  who  naturally  would  support  it, 
disliked  the  actual  king ; and  the  Whigs,  according  to 
their  creed,  disliked  the  king’s  office.  Until  the  accession 
of  George  III.  the  most  vigorous  opponents  of  the  Crown 
were  the  country  gentlemen,  its  natural  friends,  and  the 
representatives  of  quiet  rural  districts,  where  loyalty  is 
mostly  to  be  found,  if  anywhere.  But  after  the  accession 
of  George  III.  the  common  feeling  came  back  to  the  same 
point  as  in  Queen  Anne’s  time.  The  English  were  ready 
to  take  the  new  young  prince  as  the  beginning  of  a sacred 
line  of  sovereigns,  just  as  they  had  been  willing  to  take 
an  old  lady  who  was  the  second  cousin  of  his  great-great- 
grandmother. So  it  is  now.  If  you  ask  the  immense 
majority  of  the  Queen’s  subjects  by  what  right  she  rules, 
they  would  never  tell  you  that  she  rules  by  Parliamentary 
right,  by  virtue  of  6 Anne,  c.  7.  They  will  say  she  rules 
by  God’s  grace they  believe  that  they  have  a mystic 
obligation  to  obey  her.  When  her  family  came  to  the 
Crown  it  was  a sort  of  treason  to  maintain  the  inalien- 
able right  of  lineal  sovereignty,  for  it  was  equivalent 
bo  saying  that  the  claim  of  another  family  was  better 


THE  MONARCHY. 


Ill 


than  hers;  but  now,  in  the  strange  course  of  human 
events,  that  very  sentiment  has  become  her  surest  and 
best  support. 

But  it  would  be  a great  mistake  to  believe  that  at  the 
accession  of  George  III.  the  instinctive  sentiment  of 
hereditary  loyalty  at  once  became  as  useful  as  now.  It 
began  to  be  powerful,  but  it  hardly  began  to  be  useful. 
There  was  so  much  harm  done  by  it  as  well  as  so  much 
good,  that  it  is  quite  capable  of  being  argued  whether  on 
the  whole  it  was  beneficial  or  hurtful.  Throughout  the 
greater  part  of  his  life  George  III.  was  a kind  of  “ conse- 
crated obstruction.”  Whatever  he  did  had  a sanctity 
different  from  what  any  one  else  did,  and  it  perversely 
happened  that  he  was  commonly  wrong.  He  had  as  good 
intentions  as  any  one  need  have,  and  he  attended  to  the 
business  of  his  country,  as  a clerk  with  his  bread  to  get 
attends  to  the  business  of  his  office.  But  his  mind  was 
small,  his  education  limited,  and  he  lived  in  a changing 
time.  Accordingly  he  was  always  resisting  what  ought  to 
be,  and  prolonging  what  ought  not  to  be.  He  was  the 
sinister  but  sacred  assailant  of  half  his  ministries ; and 
when  the  French  revolution  excited  the  horror  of  the 
world,  and  proved  democracy  to  be  “ impious,”  the  piety 
of  England  concentrated  upon  him,  and  gave  him  tenfold 
strength.  The  monarchy  by  its  religious  sanction  now 
confirms  all  our  political  order ; in  George  III.’s  time  it 
confirmed  little  except  itself.  It  gives  now  a vast  strength 
to  the  entire  constitution,  by  enlisting  on  its  behalf  the 
credulous  obedience  of  enormous  masses ; then  it  lived 
aloof,  absorbed  all  the  holiness  into  itself,  and  turne  1 ovei 


112 


THE  EIS^OLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


all  the  rest  of  the  polity  to  the  coarse  justification  of  bare 
expediency. 

A principal  reason  why  the  monarchy  so  well  conse- 
crates our  whole  state  is  to  be  sought  in  the  peculiarity 
many  Americans  and  many  utilitarians  smile  at.  They 
laugh  at  this  extra,”  as  the  Yankee  called  it,  at  the 
solitary  transcendent  element.  They  quote  Napoleon’s 
saying,  that  he  did  not  wish  to  be  fatted  in  idleness,” 
when  he  refused  to  be  grand  elector  in  Sieyes’  constitu- 
tion, which  was  an  office  copied,  and  M.  Thiers  says,  well 
copied,  from  constitutional  monarchy.  But  such  objec- 
tions are  wholly  wrong.  No  doubt  it  was  absurd  enough 
in  the  Abbe  Sieyes  to  propose  that  a new  institution 
inheriting  no  reverence,  and  made  holy  by  no  religion 
should  be  created  to  fill  the  sort  of  post  occupied  by  a 
constitutional  king  in  nations  of  monarchical  history. 
Such  an  institution,  far  from  being  so  august  as  to  spread 
reverence  around  it,  is  too  novel  and  artificial  to  get 
reverence  for  itself ; if,  too,  the  absurdity  could  anyhow 
be  augmented,  it  was  so  by  offering  an  office  of  inactive 
uselessness  and  pretended  sanctity  to  Napoleon,  the  most 
active  man  in  France,  with  the  greatest  genius  for  busi- 
ness, only  not  sacred,  and  exclusively  fit  for  action.  But 
the  blunder  of  Sieyes  brings  the  excellence  of  real 
monarchy  to  the  best  light.  When  a monarch  can  bless, 
it  is  best  that  he  should  not  be  touched.  It  should  be 
evident  that  he  does  no  wrong.  He  should  not  be 
brought  too  closely  to  real  measurement.  He  should  be 
aloof  and  solitary.  As  the  functions  of  English  royalty 
are  fo  ’ the  most  part  latent,  it  fulfils  this  condition.  It 


THE  MONAKCHY, 


113 


seems  to  order,  but  it  never  seems  to  struggle.  It  is 
commonly  hidden  like  a mystery,  and  sometimes  paraded 
like  a pageant,  but  in  neither  case  is  it  contentious.  The 
nation  is  divided  into  parties,  but  the  Crown  is  of  nc 
party.  Its  apparent  separation  from  business  is  that 
which  removes  it  both  from  enmities  and  from  desecra- 
tion, which  preserves  its  mystery,  which  enables  it  to 
combine  the  affection  of  conflicting  parties — to  be  a 
visible  symbol  of  unity  to  those  still  so  imperfectly 
educated  as  to  need  a symbol. 

Thirdly.  The  Queen  is  the  head  of  our  society.  If 
she  did  not  exist  the  Prime  Minister  would  be  the  first 
person  in  the  country.  He  and  his  wife  would  have  to 
receive  foreign  ministers,  and  occasionally  foreign  princes, 
to  give  the  first  parties  in  the  country;  he  and  she  would 
be  at  the  head  of  the  pageant  of  life  ; they  would  repre- 
sent England  in  the  eyes  of  foreign  nations ; they  would 
represent  the  Grovernment  of  England  in  the  eyes  of  the 
English. 

It  is  very  easy  to  imagine  a world  in  which  tnis  change 
would  not  be  a great  evil.  In  a country  where  people 
did  not  care  for  the  outward  show  of  life,  where  the 
genius  of  the  people  was  untheatrical,  and  they  exclu- 
sively regarded  the  substance  of  things,  this  matter  would 
be  trifling.  Whether  Lord  and  Lady  Derby  received  the 
foreign  ministers,  or  Lord  and  Lady  Palmerston,  would 
be  a matter  of  indifference ; whether  they  gave  the 
nicest  parties  would  be  important  only  to  the  persons  at 
those  parties.  A nation  of  unimpressible  philosophers 
would  not  care  at  all  how  the  externals  of  life  were 


114 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


managell.  Who  is  the  showman  is  not  material  iinlesi 
you  care  about  the  show. 

But  of  all  nations  in  the  world  the  English  are  perhaps 
the  least  a nation  of  pure  philosophers.  It  would  be  a 
very  serious  matter  to  us  to  change  every  four  or  five 
years  the  visible  head  of  our  world.  We  are  not  now 
remarkable  for  the  highest  sort  of  ambition  ; but  we  are 
remarkable  for  having  a great  deal  of  the  lower  sort  of 
ambition  and  envy.  The  House  of  Commons  is  thronged 
with  people  who  get  there  merely  for  “ social  purposes,” 
as  the  phrase  goes ; that  is,  that  they  and  their  families 
may  go  to  parties  else  impossible.  Members  of  Parlia- 
ment are  envied  by  thousands  merely  for  this  frivolous 
glory,  as  a thinker  calls  it.  If  the  highest  post  in  con- 
spicuous life  were  thrown  open  to  public  competition, 
this  low  sort  of  ambition  and  envy  would  be  fearfully  in- 
creased. Politics  would  offer  a prize  too  dazzling  for 
mankind ; clever  base  people  would  strive  for  it,  and 
stupid  base  people  would  envy  it.  Even  now  a dangerous 
distinction  is  given  by  what  is  exclusively  called  public 
life.  The  newspapers  describe  daily  and  incessantly  a 
certain  conspicuous  existence ; they  comment  on  its 
characters,  recount  its  details,  investigate  its  motives, 
anticipate  its  course.  They  give  a precedent  and  a 
dignity  to  that  world  which  they  do  not  give  to  any 
other.  The  literary  world,  the  scientific  world,  the  philo- 
sophic world,  not  only  are  not  comparable  in  dignity  to 
the  political  world,  but  in  comparison  are  hardly  worlds 
at  all.  The  newspaper  makes  no  mention  of  them,  and 
could  not  mention  them.  As  are  the  papers,  so  are  the 


THE  MONAECHY. 


115 


readers*  they,  by  irresistible  sequence  and  association, 
believe  that  those  people  who  constantly  figure  in  the 
papers  are  cleverer,  abler,  or  at  any  rate,  somehow  higher, 
than  other  people.  I wrote  books,”  we  heard  of  a man 
Baying,  “ for  twenty  years,  and  I was  nobody ; I got  into 
Parliament,  and  before  I had  taken  my  seat  I had  become 
somebody.”  English  politicians  are  the  men  who  fill  the 
thoughts  of  the  English  public ; they  are  the  actors  on 
the  scene,  and  it  is  hard  for  the  admiring  spectators  not 
to  believe  that  the  admired  actor  is  greater  than  them- 
selves. In  this  present  age  and  country  it  would  be  very 
dangerous  to  give  the  slightest  addition  to  a force  already 
perilously  great.  If  the  highest  social  rank  was  to  be 
scrambled  for  in  the  House  of  Commons,  the  number 
of  social  adventurers  there  would  be  incalculably  more 
numerous,  and  indefinitely  more  eager. 

A very  peculiar  combination  of  causes  has  made  this 
characteristic  one  of  the  most  prominent  in  English 
society.  The  middle  ages  left  all  Europe  with  a social 
system  headed  by  Courts.  The  government  was  made 
the  head  of  all  society,  all  intercourse,  and  all  life ; every- 
ching  paid  allegiance  to  the  sovereign,  and  everything 
ranged  itself  round  the  sovereign — what  was  next  to  be 
greatest,  and  what  was  farthest  least.  The  idea  that  the 
head  of  the  government  is  the  head  of  society  is  so  fixed 
in  the  ideas  of  mankind  that  only  a few  philosophers 
regard  it  as  historical  and  accidental,  though  when  the 
matter  is  examined,  that  conclusion  is  certain  and  even 
obvious. 

In  the  first  place,  society  as  society  does  not  naturallj 


116 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


need  a head  at  all.  Its  constitution,  if  left  to  itself,  is 
not  monarchical,  but  aristocratical.  Society,  in  the  sense 
we  are  now  talking  of,  is  the  union  of  people  for  amuse- 
ment and  conversation.  The  making  of  marriages  goes 
on  in  it,  as  it  were,  incidentally,  but  its  common  and 
main  concern  is  talking  and  pleasure.  There  is  nothing 
in  this  which  needs  a single  supreme  head  ; it  is  a pursuit 
in  which  a single  person  does  not  of  necessity  dominate. 
By  nature  it  creates  an  upper  ten  thousand  ; ” a certain 
number  of  persons  and  families  possessed  of  equal  cul- 
ture, and  equal  faculties,  and  equal  spirit,  get  to  be  on  a 
level — and  that  level  a high  level.  By  boldness,  by  culti- 
vation, by  social  science  ” they  raise  themselves  above 
others  ; they  become  the  “ first  families,”  and  all  the  rest 
come  to  be  below  them.  But  they  tend  to  be  much  about 
a level  among  one  another ; no  one  is  recognised  by  all 
or  by  many  others  as  superior  to  them  all.  This  is  society 
as  it  grew  up  in  Grreece  or  Italy,  as  it  grows  up  now  in 
any  American  or  colonial  town.  So  far  from  the  notion 
of  a “head  of  society”  being  a necessary  notion,  in  many 
ages  it  would  scarcely  have  been  an  intelligible  notion. 
You  could  not  have  made  Socrates  understand  it.  He 
would  have  said,  “ If  you  tell  me  that  one  of  my 
fellows  is  chief  magistrate,  and  that  I am  bound  to  obey 
him,  I understand  you,  and  you  speak  well ; or  that 
another  is  a priest,  and  that  he  ought  to  offer  sacrifices  to 
the  gods  which  I or  any  one  not  a priest  ought  not  to 
offer,  again  I understand  and  agree  with  you.  But  if  you 
tell  me  that  there  is  in  some  citizen  a hiilden  charm  by 
which  his  words  become  better  than  my  words,  and  his 


THE  MONARCHY. 


117 


houHe  better  tbAn  my  house,  I do  not  follow  you,  and 
should  be  pleased  if  you  will  explain  yourself.” 

And  even  if  a head  of  society  were  a natural  idea,  it 
certainly  would  not  follow  that  the  head  of  the  civil 
government  should  be  that  head.  Society  as  such  has  no 
more  to  do  with  civil  polity  than  with  ecclesiastical.  The 
organisation  of  men  and  women  for  the  purpose  of  amuse- 
ment is  not  necessarily  identical  with  their  organisation 
for  political  purposes,  any  more  than  with  their  organisa- 
tion for  religious  purposes ; it  has  of  itself  no  more  to  do 
with  the  State  than  it  has  with  the  Church.  The  facul- 
ties which  fit  a man  to  be  a great  ruler  are  not  those  of 
society ; some  great  rulers  have  been  unintelligible  like 
Cromwell,  or  brusque  like  Napoleon,  or  coarse  and  bar- 
barous like  Sir  Eobert  Walpole.  The  light  nothings  of 
the  drawing-room  and  the  grave  things  of  office  are  as 
different  from  one  another  as  two  human  occupations  can 
be.  There  is  no  naturalness  in  uniting  the  two  ; the  end 
of  it  always  is,  that  you  put  a man  at  the  head  of  society 
who  very  likely  is  remarkable  for  social  defects,  and  is  not 
eminent  for  social  merits. 

The  best  possible  commentary  on  these  remarks  is  the 
“ History  of  English  Eoyalty.”  It  has  not  been  suffi- 
ciently remarked  that  a change  has  taken  place  in  the 
structure  of  our  society  exactly  analogous  to  the  change 
in  our  polity.  A Eepublic  has  insinuated  itself  beneath 
the  folds  of  a Monarchy.  Charles  II.  was  really  the 
nead  of  society ; Whitehall,  in  his  time,  was  the  centre 
of  the  best  talk,  the  best  fashion,  and  the  most  curious 
love  affairs  of  the  age.  He  did  not  contribut;e  good 


118 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


morality  to  society,  but  he  set  an  example  of  infinite 
agieeableness.  He  concentrated  around  him  all  the  light 
part  of  the  high  world  of  London,  and  London  concen- 
trated around  it  all  the  light  part  of  the  high  world  of 
England.  The  Court  was  the  focus  where  everything 
fascinating  gathered,  and  where  everything  exciting  cen- 
tred. Whitehall  was  an  unequalled  club,  with  female 
society  of  a very  clever  and  sharp  sort  superadded.  All 
this,  as  we  know,  is  now  altered.  Buckingham  Palace  is 
as  unlike  a club  as  any  place  is  likely  to  be.  The  Court 
is  a separate  part,  which  stands  aloof  from  the  rest  of  the 
London  world,  and  which  has  but  slender  relations  with 
the  more  amusing  part  of  it.  The  two  first  Georges  were 
men  ignorant  of  English,  and  wholly  unfit  to  guide  and 
lead  English  society.  They  both  preferred  one  or  two 
German  ladies  of  bad  character  to  all  else  in  London. 
George  III.  had  no  social  vices,  but  he  had  no  social  plea- 
sures. He  was  a family  man,  and  a man  of  business,  and 
sincerely  preferred  a leg  of  mutton  and  turnips  after  a 
good  day’s  work,  to  the  best  fashion  and  the  most  exciting 
talk.  In  consequence,  society  in  London,  though  still  in 
form  under  the  domination  of  a Court,  assumed  in  fact 
its  natural  and  oligarchical  structure.  It,  too,  has  become 
an  upper  ten  thousand it  is  no  more  monarchical  in 
fact  than  the  society  of  New  York.  Great  ladies  give  the 
tone  to  it  with  little  reference  to  the  particular  Court 
world.  The  peculiarly  masculine  world  of  the  clubs  and 
their  neighbourhood  has  no  more  to  do  in  daily  life  with 
Buckingham  Palace  than  with  the  Tuileries.  Formal 
ceremonies  of  presentation  and  attendance  are  retained 


THE  MONAKCHY. 


119 


The  names  of  levee  and  drawing-room  still  sustain  the 
memory  of  the  time  when  the  king’s  bed-chamber  and 
the  queen’s  ‘^withdrawing  room”  were  the  centres  of 
London  life,  but  they  no  longer  make  a part  of  social 
enjoyment : they  are  a sort  of  ritual  in  which  now-a-days 
almost  every  decent  person  can  if  he  likes  take  part. 
Even  Court  balls,  where  pleasure  is  at  least  supposed  to 
be  possible,  are  lost  in  a London  July.  Careful  observers 
have  long  perceived  this,  but  it  was  made  palpable  to 
every  one  by  the  death  of  the  Prince  Consort.  Since 
then  the  Court  has  been  always  in  a state  of  suspended 
animation,  and  for  a time  it  was  quite  annihilated.  But 
everything  went  on  as  usual.  A few  people  who  had  no 
daughters  and  little  money  made  it  an  excuse  to  give 
fewer  parties,  and  if  very  poor,  stayed  in  the  country,  but 
upon  the  whole  the  difference  was  not  perceptible.  The 
queen  bee  was  taken  away,  but  the  hive  went  on. 

Eefined  and  original  observers  have  of  late  objected  to 
English  royalty  that  it  is  not  splendid  enough.  They 
have  compared  it  with  the  French  Court,  which  is  better 
in  show,  which  comes  to  the  surface  everywhere  so  that 
you  cannot  help  seeing  it,  which  is  infinitely  and  beyond 
question  the  most  splendid  thing  in  France.  They  have 
said,  “ that  in  old  times  the  English  Court  took  too 
much  of  the  nation’s  money,  and  spent  it  ill ; but  now, 
when  it  could  be  trusted  to  spend  well,  it  does  not  take 
enough  of  the  nation’s  money.  There  are  arguments  for 
not  having  a Court,  and  there  are  arguments  for  having  a 
splendid  Court ; but  there  are  no  arguments  for  having  a 
mean  Court.  It  is  better  to  spend  a million  in  dazzling 


120 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


when  you  wish  to  dazzle,  than  three-quarters  of  a million 
in  trying  to  dazzle  and  yet  not  dazzling.”  There  may  be 
something  in  this  theory ; it  may  be  that  the  Court  of 
England  is  not  quite  as  gorgeous  as  we  might  wish  to 
see  it.  But  no  comparison  must  ever  be  made  between 
it  and  the  French  Court.  The  Emperor  represents  a 
different  idea  from  the  Queen.  He  is  not  the  head  of 
the  State ; he  is  the  State.  The  theory  of  his  govern- 
ment is  that  every  one  in  France  is  equal,  and  that  the 
Emperor  embodies  the  principle  of  equality.  The  greater 
you  make  him,  the  less,  and  therefore  the  more  equal,  you 
make  all  others.  He  is  magnified  that  others  may  be 
dwarfed.  The  veiy  contrary  is  the  principle  of  English 
royalty.  As  in  politics  it  would  lose  its  principal  use  if 
it  came  forward  into  the  public  arena,  so  in  society  if  it 
advertised  itself  it  would  be  pernicious.  We  have  volun- 
tary show  enough  already  in  London  ; we  do  not  wish  to 
have  it  encouraged  and  intensified,  but  quieted  and  miti- 
gated. Our  Court  is  but  the  head  of  an  unequal,  com- 
peting, aristocratic  society  : its  splendour  would  not  keep 
others  down,  but  incite  others  to  come  on.  It  is  of  use 
so  long  as  it  keeps  others  out  of  the  first  place,  and  is 
guarded  and  retired  in  that  place.  But  it  would  do  evil 
if  it  added  a new  example  to  our  many  examples  of  showy 
wealth — if  it  gave  the  sanction  of  its  dignity  to  the  race 
of  expenditure. 

Fourthly.  We  have  come  to  regard  the  Crown  as  the 
head  of  our  morality.  The  virtues  of  Queen  Victoria  and 
the  virtues  of  George  III.  have  sunk  deep  into  the  popular 
heart.  We  have  come  to  believe  that  it  is  natural  to  bava 


THE  MONAECHY. 


121 


a virtuoiis  sovereign,  and  that  the  domestic  virtues  are  as 
likely  to  be  found  on  thrones  as  they  are  eminent  when 
there.  But  a little  experience  and  less  thought  show 
that  royalty  cannot  take  credit  for  domestic  excellence. 
Neither  George  I.,  nor  George  II.,  nor  William  IV.  were 
patterns  of  family  merit ; George  IV.  was  a model  of 
family  demerit.  The  plain  fact  is,  that  to  the  disposition 
of  all  others  most  likely  to  go  wrong,  to  an  excitable  dis- 
position, the  place  of  a constitutional  king  has  greatei 
temptations  than  almost  any  other,  and  fewer  suitable 
occupations  than  almost  any  other.  All  the  world  and 
all  the  glory  of  it,  whatever  is  most  attractive,  whatever 
is  most  seductive,  has  always  been  offered  to  the  Prince 
of  Wales  of  the  day,  and  always  will  be.  It  is  not  rational 
to  expect  the  best  virtue  where  temptation  is  applied  in 
the  most  trying  form  at  the  frailest  time  of  human  life. 
The  occupations  of  a constitutional  monarch  are  grave, 
formal,  important,  but  never  exciting  ; they  have  nothing 
to  stir  eager  blood,  awaken  high  imagination,  work  off 
wild  thoughts.  On  men  like  George  III.,  with  a pre- 
dominant taste  for  business  occupations,  the  routine  duties 
of  constitutional  royalty  have  doubtless  a calm  and 
chastening  effect.  The  insanity  with  which  he  struggled, 
and  in  many  cases  struggled  very  successfully,  during 
many  years,  would  probably  have  burst  out  much  oftener 
but  for  the  sedative  effect  of  sedulous  employment.  But 
how  few  princes  have  ever  felt  the  anomalous  impulse  for 
real  work ; how  uncommon  is  that  impulse  anywhere ; 
how  little  are  the  circumstances  of  princes  calculated  to 

foster  it ; how  little  can  it  be  relied  on  as  an  ordinary 
9 


122 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


breakwater  to  tkeir  habitual  temptations  1 Grave  and 
careful  men  may  have  domestic  virtues  on  a constitutional 
throne,  but  even  these  fail  sometimes,  and  to  imagine 
that  men  of  more  eager  temperaments  will  commonly 
produce  them,  is  to  expect  grapes  from  thorns  and  figs 
from  thistles. 

Lastly.  Constitutional  royalty  has  the  function  which  I 
insisted  on  at  length  in  my  last  essay,  and  which,  though 
it  is  by  far  the  greatest,  I need  not  now  enlarge  upon 
again.  It  acts  as  a disguise.  It  enables  our  real  rulers 
to  change  without  heedless  people  knowing  it.  The 
masses  of  Englishmen  are  not  fit  for  an  elective  govern- 
ment ; if  they  knew  how  near  they  were  to  it,  they  would 
be  surprised,  and  almost  tremble. 

Of  a like  nature  is  the  value  of  constitutional  royalty  in 
times  of  transition.  The  greatest  of  all  helps  to  the  sub- 
stitution of  a cabinet  government  for  a preceding  absolute 
monarchy,  is  the  accession  of  a king  favourable  to  such  a 
government,  and  pledged  to  it.  Cabinet  government, 
when  new,  is  weak  in  time  of  trouble.  The  prime  minister 
— the  chief  on  whom  everything  depends,  who  must  take 
responsibility  if  any  one  is  to  take  it,  who  must  use  force 
if  any  one  is  to  use  it — is  not  fixed  in  power.  He  holds 
his  place,  by  the  essence  of  the  government,  with  some 
uncertainty.  Among  a people  well-accustomed  to  such  a 
government  such  a functionary  may  be  bold ; he  may 
rely,  if  not  on  the  parliament,  on  the  nation  which  under- 
stands and  values  him.  But  when  that  government  has 
only  recently  been  introduced,  it  is  difficult  for  such  a 


THE  MONAECHY. 


123 


minister  to  be  as  bold  as  he  ought  to  be.  His  power  rests 
too  much  on  human  reason,  and  too  little  on  human  in- 
stinct. The  traditional  strength  of  the  hereditary  monarch 
is  at  these  times  of  incalculable  use.  It  would  have  been 
impossible  for  England  to  get  through  the  first  years 
after  1688  but  for  the  singular  ability  of  William  III. 
It  would  have  been  impossible  for  Italy  to  have  attained 
and  kept  her  freedom  without  the  help  of  Victor  Em- 
manuel ; neither  the  work  of  Cavour  nor  the  work  of 
Garibaldi  were  more  necessary  than  his.  But  the  failure 
of  Louis  Philippe  to  use  his  reserve  power  as  constitutional 
monarch  is  the  most  instructive  proof  how  great  that 
reserve  power  is.  In  February,  1848,  Guizot  was  weak 
because  his  tenure  of  office  was  insecure.  Louis  Philippe 
should  have  made  that  tenure  certain.  Parliamentary 
reform  might  afterwards  have  been  conceded  to  instructed 
opinion,  but  nothing  ought  to  have  been  conceded  to  the 
mob.  The  Parisian  populace  ought  to  have  been  put 
down,  as  Guizot  wished.  If  Louis  Philippe  had  been  a 
fit  king  to  introduce  free  government,  he  would  have 
strengthened  his  ministers  when  they  were  the  instru- 
ments of  order,  even  if  he  afterwards  discarded  them  when 
order  was  safe,  and  policy  could  be  discussed.  But  he 
was  one  of  the  cautious  men  who  are  noted  ” to  fail  in 
old  age : though  of  the  largest  experience,  and  of  great 
ability,  he  failed  and  lost  his  crown  for  want  of  petty  and 
momentary  energy,  which  at  such  a crisis  a plain  man 
would  have  at  once  put  forth. 

Such  are  the  principal  modes  in  which  the  institution 


124 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


of  royalty  by  its  august  aspect  influences  mankind,  and  in 
the  English  state  of  civilisation  they  are  invaluable.  Of 
the  actual  business  of  the  sovereign — the  real  work  the 
Queen  does — I shall  speak  in  my  next  paper. 


ly. 


THE  MONARCHY — {Goutmued). 

The  House  of  Commons  has  inquired  into  most  things, 
but  has  never  had  a committee  on  the  Queen.”  There 
is  no  authentic  blue-book  to  say  what  she  does.  Such  an 
investigation  cannot  take  place ; but  if  it  could,  it  would 
probably  save  her  much  vexatious  routine,  and  many  toil- 
some and  unnecessary  hours. 

The  popular  theory  of  the  English  Constitution  involves 
two  errors  as  to  the  sovereign.  First,  in  its  oldest  form  at 
least,  it  considers  him  as  an  “ Estate  of  the  Eealm,”  a 
separate  co-ordinate  authority  with  the  House  of  Lords 
and  the  House  of  Commons.  This  and  much  else  the 
sovereign  once  was,  but  this  he  is  no  longer.  That 
authority  could  only  be  exercised  by  a monarch  with  a 
legislative  veto.  He  should  be  able  to  reject  bills,  if  not 
as  the  House  of  Commons  rejects  them,  at  least  as  the 
House  of  Peers  rejects  them.  But  the  Queen  has  no  such  V 
veto.  She  must  sign  her  own  death-warrant  if  the  two 
Houses  unanimously  send  it  up  to  her.  It  is  a fiction  of 
the  past  to  ascribe  to  her  legislative  power.  She  has  long 
ceased  to  have  any.  Secondly,  the  ancient  theory  holds 
that  the  Queen  is  the  executive.  The  American  Consti- 


126 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


tiition  was  made  upon  a most  careful  argument,  ana  most 
of  that  argument  assumes  the  king  to  be  the  administrator 
of  the  English  Constitution,  and  an  unhereditary  substi- 
tute for  him — viz.,  a president — to  be  peremptorily  neces- 
sary. Living  across  the  Atlantic,  and  misled  by  accepted 
doctrines,  the  acute  framers  of  the  Federal  Constitution, 
even  after  the  keenest  attention,  did  not  perceive  the  Prime 
Minister  to  be  the  principal  executive  of  the  British  Con- 
stitution, and  the  sovereign  a cog  in  the  mechanism. 
There  is,  indeed,  much  excuse  for  the  American  legislators 
in  the  history  of  thar  time.  They  took  their  idea  of  our 
constitution  from  the  time  when  they  encountered  it.  But 
in  the  so-called  government  of  Lord  North,  George  III. 
was  the  government.  Lord  North  was  not  only  his 
appointee,  but  his  agent.  The  minister  carried  on  a war 
which  he  disapproved  and  hated,  because  it  was  a war 
which  his  sovereign  approved  and  liked.  Inevitably, 
therefore,  the  American  Convention  believed  the  king, 
from  whom  they  had  suffered,  to  be  the  real  executive,  and 
not  the  minister,  from  whom  they  had  not  suffered. 

If  we  leave  literary  theory,  and  look  to  our  actual  old 
law,  it  is  wonderful  how  much  the  sovereign  can  do.  A 
few  years  ago  the  Queen  very  wisely  attempted  to  make 
life  Peers,  and  the  House  of  Lords  very  unwisely,  and 
contrary  to  its  o^vn  best  interests,  refused  to  admit  her 
claim.  They  said  her  power  had  decayed  into  non- 
existence ; she  once  had  it,  they  allowed,  but  it  had  ceased 
by  long  disuse.  If  any  one  will  run  over  the  pages  of 
Comyn’s  “ Digest,”  or  any  other  such  book,  title  “ Preroga- 
tive,” he  will  find  the  Queen  has  a hundred  such  powers 


THE  MONARCHY. 


127 


which  waver  between  reality  and  desuetude,  and  which 
would  cause  a protracted  and  very  interesting  legal  argu- 
ment if  she  tried  to  exercise  them.  Some  good  lawyer 
ought  to  write  a careful  book  to  say  which  of  these  powers 
are  really  usable,  and  which  are  obsolete.  There  is  no 
authentic  explicit  information  as  to  what  the  Queen  can 
do,  any  more  than  of  what  she  does. 

In  the  bare  superficial  theory  of  free  institutions  this  is 
undoubtedly  a defect.  Every  power  in  a popular  govern- 
ment ought  to  be  known.  The  whole  notion  of  such  a 
government  is  that  the  political  people — the  governing 
people — rules  as  it  thinks  fit.  All  the  acts  of  every 
administration  are  to  be  canvassed  by  it ; it  is  to  watch  if 
such  acts  seem  good,  and  in  some  manner  or  other  to 
interpose  if  they  seem  not  good.  But  it  cannot  judge  if 
it  is  to  be  kept  in  ignorance ; it  cannot  interpose  if  it  does 
not  know.  A secret  prerogative  is  an  anomaly — perhaps 
the  greatest  of  anomalies.  That  secrecy  is,  however, 
essential  to  the  utility  of  English  royalty  as  it  now  is. 
Above  all  things  our  royalty  is  to  be  reverenced,  and  if  you 
begin  to  poke  about  it  you  cannot  reverence  it.  When 
there  is  a select  committee  on  the  Queen,  the  charm  of 
royalty  will  be  gone.  Its  mystery  is  its  life.  We  must 
not  let  in  daylight  upon  magic.  We  must  not  bring 
the  Queen  into  the  combat  of  politics,  or  sue  will  cease 
to  be  reverenced  by  all  combatants ; she  will  become  one 
combatant  among  many.  The  existence  of  this  secret 
power  is,  according  to  abstract  theory,  a defect  in  our 
constitutional  polity,  but  it  is  a defect  incident  to  a 
civilisation  such  as  ours,  where  august  and  therefore 


128 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


unknown  powers  are  needed,  as  well  as  known  and  ser* 
viceable  powers. 

If  we  attempt  to  estimate  the  working  of  this  inner 
power  by  the  evidence  of  those,  whether  dead  or  living, 
who  have  been  brought  in  contact  with  it,  we  shall  find  a 
singular  difference.  Both  the  courtiers  of  George  III. 
and  the  courtiers  of  Queen  Victoria  are  agreed  as  to  the 
magnitude  of  the  royal  influence.  It  is  with  both  an 
accepted  secret  doctrine  that  the  Crown  does  more  than  it 
seems.  But  there  is  a wide  discrepancy  in  opinion  as  to 
the  quality  of  that  action.  Mr.  Fox  did  not  scruple  to 
describe  the  hidden  influence  of  George  III.  as  the 
undetected  agency  of  an  infernal  spirit.”  The  action  of 
the  Crown  at  that  period  was  the  dread  and  terror  of 
Liberal  politicians.  But  now  the  best  Liberal  politicians 
say,  We  shall  never  know,  but  when  history  is  written  our 
children  may  know,  what  we  owe  to  the  Queen  and  Prince 
Albert.”  The  mystery  of  the  constitution,  which  used  to 
be  hated  by  our  calmest,  most  thoughtful,  and  instructed 
statesmen,  is  now  loved  and  reverenced  by  them. 

Before  we  try  to  account  for  this  change,  there  is  one 
part  of  the  duties  of  the  Queen  which  should  be  struck 
out  of  the  discussion.  I mean  the  formal  part.  The 
Queen  has  to  assent  to  and  sign  countless  formal  docu- 
ments, which  contain  no  matter  of  policy,  of  which  the 
purport  is  insignificant,  which  any  clerk  could  sign  as 
well.  One  great  class  of  documents  George  III.  used  to 
read  l)efore  he  signed  them,  till  Lord  Thurlow  told  him, 
“ It  was  nonsense  his  looking  at  them,  for  he  could  not 
understand  them.”  But  the  worst  case  is  that  of  comrais 


THE  MONAKCHY. 


129 


gions  in  the  army.  Till  an  Act  passed  only  three  years 
since  the  Queen  used  to  sign  all  military  commissions, 
and  she  still  signs  all  fresh  commissions.  The  inevitable 
and  natural  consequence  is  that  such  commissions  were, 
and  to  some  extent  still  are,  in  arrears  by  thousands. 
Men  have  often  been  known  to  receive  their  commissions 
for  the  first  time  years  after  they  have  left  the  service. 
If  the  Queen  had  been  an  ordinary  oflQcer  she  would  long 
since  have  complained,  and  long  since  have  been  relieved 
of  this  slavish  labour.  A cynical  statesman  is  said  to 
have  defended  it  on  the  ground  that  you  may  have  a 
fool  for  a sovereign,  and  then  it  would  be  desirable  he 
should  have  plenty  of  occupation  in  which  he  can  do  no 
harm.”  But  it  is  in  truth  childish  to  heap  formal  duties 
of  business  upon  a person  who  has  of  necessity  so  many 
formal  duties  of  society.  It  is  a remnant  of  the  old 
days  when  George  III.  would  know  everything,  however 
trivial,  and  assent  to  everything,  however  insignificant. 
These  labours  of  routine  may  be  dismissed  from  the  dis- 
cussion. It  is  not  by  them  that  the  sovereign  acquires  his 
authority  either  for  evil  or  for  good. 

The  best  mode  of  testing  what  we  owe  to  the  Queen  is 
to  make  a vigorous  effort  of  the  imagination,  and  see  how 
we  should  get  on  without  her.  Let  us  strip  cabinet 
government  of  all  its  accessories,  let  us  reduce  it  to  its 
two  necessary  constituents — a representative  assembly  (a 
House  of  Commons)  and  a cabinet  appointed  by  that 
assembly — and  examine  how  we  should  manage  with  them 
only.  We  are  so  little  accustomed  to  analyse  the  consti- 
tution ; we  are  so  used  to  ascribe  the  whole  effect  of  the 


130 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


constitutioE  to  the  whole  constitution,  that  a great  many 
people  will  imagine  it  to  be  impossible  that  a nation 
should  thrive  or  even  live  with  only  these  two  simple  ele- 
ments. But  it  is  upon  that  possibility  that  the  general 
imitability  of  the  English  Government  depends.  A 
monarch  that  can  be  truly  reverenced,  a House  of  Peers 
that  can  be  really  respected,  are  historical  accidents  nearly 
peculiar  to  this  one  island,  and  entirely  peculiar  to 
Europe.  A new  country,  if  it  is  to  be  capable  of  a cabinet 
government,  if  it  is  not  to  degrade  itself  to  presidential 
government,  must  create  that  cabinet  out  of  its  native 
resources — must  not  rely  oa  these  old  world  debris. 

Many  modes  might  be  suggested  by  which  a parlia- 
ment might  do  in  appearance  what  our  parliament  does 
in  reality,  viz.,  appoint  a premier.  But  I prefer  to  select 
the  simplest  of  all  modes.  We  shall  then  see  the  bare 
skeleton  of  this  polity,  perceive  in  what  it  differs  from 
the  royal  form,  and  be  quite  free  from  the  imputation 
of  having  selected  an  unduly  charming  and  attractive 
substitute. 

Let  us  suppose  the  House  of  Commons — existing  alone 
and  by  itself — to  appoint  the  premier  quite  simply,  just 
as  the  shareholders  of  a railway  choose  a director.  At 
each  vacancy,  whether  caused  by  death  or  resignation, 
let  any  member  or  members  have  the  right  of  nominating 
i successor  ; after  a proper  interval,  such  as  the  time  now 
commonly  occupied  by  a ministerial  crisis,  ten  days  or  a 
fortnight,  let  the  members  present  vote  for  the  candidate 
they  prefer ; then  let  the  Speaker  count  the  votes,  and 
the  candidate  with  the  greatest  number  be  premioT. 


THE  MONARCHY. 


131 


This  mode  of  election  would  throw  the  whole  choice  into 
the  hands  of  party  organisation,  just  as  our  present  mode 
does,  except  in  so  far  as  the  Crown  interferes  with  it ; no 
outsider  would  ever  be  appointed,  oecause  the  immense 
number  of  votes  which  every  great  party  brings  into  the 
field  would  far  outnumber  every  casual  and  petty  minority. 
The  premier  should  not  be  appointed  for  a fixed  time, 
but  during  good  behaviour  or  the  pleasure  of  parlia- 
ment. Mutatis  mutandis^  subject  to  the  differences  now 
to  be  investigated,  what  goes  on  now  would  go  on  then. 
The  premier  then,  as  now,  must  resign  upon  a vote  of 
want  of  confidence,  but  the  volition  of  parliament  would 
then  be  the  overt  and  single  force  in  the  selection  of  a 
successor,  whereas  it  is  now  the  predominant  though 
latent  force. 

It  will  help  the  discussion  very  much  if  we  divide  it 
into  three  parts.  The  whole  course  of  a representative 
government  has  three  stages — first,  when  a ministry  is 
appointed ; next,  during  its  continuance  ; last,  when  it 
ends.  Let  us  consider  what  is  the  exact  use  of  the  Queen 
at  each  of  these  stages,  and  how  our  present  form  of 
government  differs  in  each,  whether  for  good  or  for  evil, 
from  that  simpler  form  of  cabinet  government  which 
might  exist  without  her. 

At  the  beginning  of  an  administration  there  would  not 
be  much  difference  between  the  royal  and  unroyal  species 
of  cabinet  governments  when  there  were  only  two  great 
parties  in  the  State,  and  when  the  greater  of  those  parties 
was  thoroughly  agreed  within  itself  who  should  be  its 
parliamentary  leader,  and  who  therefore  should  be  its 


132 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


premier.  The  sovereign  must  now  accept  that  recognised 
leader;  and  if  the  choice  were  directly  made  by  the 
House  of  Commons,  the  House  must  also  choose  him; 
its  supreme  section,  acting  compactly  and  harmoniously, 
would  sway  its  decisions  without  substantial  resistance, 
and  perhaps  without  even  apparent  competition.  A pre- 
dominant party,  rent  by  no  intestine  demarcation,  would 
be  despotic.  In  such  a case  cabinet  government  would 
go  on  without  friction  whether  there  was  a Queen  or 
whether  there  was  no  Queen.  The  best  sovereign  could 
then  achieve  no  good,  and  the  worst  effect  no  harm. 

, But  the  difficulties  are  far  greater  when  the  predo- 
minant party  is  not  agreed  who  should  be  its  leader. 
In  the  royal  form  of  cabinet  government  the  sovereign 
then  has  sometimes  a substantial  selection ; \ in  the  un- 
royal, who  would  choose  ? There  must  be  a meeting  at 
‘‘Willis’s  Booms;”  there  must  be  that  sort  of  interior 
despotism  of  the  majority  ovei  the  minority  within  the 
party,  by  which  Lord  John  Bussell  in  1859  was  made  to 
resign  his  pretensions  to  the  supreme  government,  and 
to  be  content  to  serve  as  a subordinate  to  Lord  Palmer- 
ston. The  tacit  compression  which  a party  anxious  for 
office  would  exercise  over  leaders  who  divided  its  strength, 
would  be  used  and  must  be  used.  Whether  such  a party 
would  always  choose  precisely  the  best  man  may  well  be 
doubted.  In  a party  once  divided  it  is  very  difficult  to 
secure  unanimity  in  favour  of  the  very  person  whom  a 
disinterested  bystander  would  recommend.  All  manner 
of  jealousies  and  enmities  are  immediately  awakened, 
and  it  is  always  difficult,  often  impossible,  to  get  them 


THE  MONARCHY. 


133 


to  sleep  again.  But  though  such  a party  might  not 
select  the  very  best  leader,  they  have  the  strongest 
motives  to  select  a very  good  leader.  The  maintenance  cf 
their  rule  depends  on  it.  Under  a presidential  consti- 
tution the  preliminary  caucuses  which  choose  the  presi- 
dent need  not  care  as  to  the  ultimate  fitness  of  the 
man  they  choose.  They  are  solely  concerned  with  his 
attractiveness  as  a candidate;  they  need  not  regard  his 
eflSciency  as  a ruler.  If  they  elect  a man  of  weak  judg- 
ment, he  will  reign  his  stated  term ; even  though  he 
show  the  best  judgment,  at  the  end  of  that  term  there 
will  be  by  constitutional  destiny  another  election.  But 
under  a ministerial  government  there  is  no  such  fixed 
destiny.  The  government  is  a removable  government; 
its  tenure  depends  upon  its  conduct.  If  a party  in  power 
were  so  foolish  as  to  choose  a weak  man  for  its  head,  it 
would  cease  to  be  in  power.  Its  judgment  is  its  life. 
Suppose  in  1859  that  the  Whig  party  had  determined 
to  set  aside  both  Earl  Eussell  and  Lord  Palmerston, 
and  to  choose  for  its  head  an  incapable  nonentity,  the 
Whig  party  would  probably  have  been  exiled  from  ofiSce 
at  the  Schleswig-Holstein  difficulty.  The  nation  would 
have  deserted  them,  and  Parliament  would  have  deserted 
them,  too ; neither  would  have  endured  to  see  a secret 
negotiation,  on  which  depended  the  portentous  alterna- 
tive of  war  or  peace,  in  the  hands  of  a person  who  was 
thought  to  be  weak — who  had  been  promoted  because  of 
his  mediocrity — whom  his  own  friends  did  not  respect. 
A ministerial  government,  too,  is  carried  on  in  the  face 
of  day.  Its  life  is  in  debate.  A president  may  be  a 


134 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION, 


weak  men ; yet  if  he  keep  good  ministers  to  the  end  of 
his  administration,  he  may  not  be  found  out — it  may  still 
be  a dubious  controversy  whether  he  is  wise  or  foolish. 
But  a prime  minister  must  show  what  he  is.  He  must 
meet  the  House  of  Commons  in  debate  ; he  must  be  able 
to  guide  that  assembly  in  the  management  of  its  business, 
to  gain  its  ear  in  every  emergency,  to  rule  it  in  its  hours 
of  excitement.  He  is  conspicuously  submitted  to  a 
searching  test,  and  if  he  fails  he  must  resign. 

Nor  would  any  party  like  to  trust  to  a weak  man  the 
great  power  which  a cabinet  government  commits  to  its 
premier.  The  premier,  though  elected  by  parliament, 
can  dissolve  parliament.  Members  would  be  naturally 
anxious  that  the  power  which  might  destroy  their  coveted 
dignity  should  be  lodged  in  fit  hands.  They  dare  not 
place  in  unfit  hands  a power  which,  besides  hurting  the 
nation,  might  altogether  ruin  them.  We  may  be  sure, 
therefore,  that  whenever  the  predominant  party  is 
divided,  the  UTi-royal  form  of  cabinet  government  would 
secure  for  us  a fair  and  able  parliamentary  leader — that 
it  would  give  us  a good  premier,  if  not  the  very  best. 
Can  it  be  said  that  the  royal  form  does  more  ? 

In  one  case  I think  it  may.  If  the  constitutional 
monarch  be  a man  of  singular  discernment,  of  unpreju- 
diced disposition,  and  great  political  knowledge,  he  may 
pick  out  from  the  ranks  of  the  divided  party  its  very  best 
leader,  even  at  a time  when  the  party,  if  left  to  itself, 
would  not  nominate  him.  If  the  sovereign  be  able  to 
play  the  part  of  that  thoroughly  intelligent  but  perfectly 
disinterested  spectator  who  is  so  prominent  in  the  works 


THE  MONAECHY. 


135 


of  certain  moralists,  he  may  be  able  to  choose  better  for 
his  subjects  than  they  would  choose  for  themselves.  But 
if  the  monarch  be  not  so  exempt  from  prejudice,  and 
have  not  this  nearly  miraculous  discernment,  it  is  not 
likely  that  he  will  be  able  to  make  a wiser  choice  than 
the  choice  of  the  party  itself.  He  certainly  is  not  under 
the  same  motive  to  choose  wisely.  His  place  is  fixed 
whatever  happens,  but  the  failure  of  an  appointing  party 
depends  on  the  capacity  of  their  appointee. 

There  is  great  danger,  too,  that  the  judgment  of  the 
sovereign  may  be  prejudiced.  For  more  than  forty 
years  the  personal  antipathies  of  George  III.  materially 
impaired  successive  administrations.  Almost  at  the 
beginning  of  his  career  he  discarded  Lord  Chatham  : 
almost  at  the  end  he  would  not  permit  Mr.  Pitt  to 
coalesce  with  Mr.  Fox.  He  always  preferred  mediocrity  ; 
he  generally  disliked  high  ability ; he  always  disliked 
great  ideas.  If  constitutional  monarchs  be  ordinary  men 
of  restricted  experience  and  common  capacity  (and  we 
have  no  right  to  suppose  that  hy  miracle  they  will  be 
more),  the  judgment  of  the  sovereign  will  often  be  worse 
than  the  judgment  of  the  party,  and  he  will  be  very 
subject  to  the  chronic  danger  of  preferring  a respectful 
common-place  man,  such  as  Addington,  to  an  independent 
first-rate  man,  such  as  Pitt. 

We  shall  arrive  at  the  same  sort  of  mixed  conclusion  if 
we  examine  the  choice  of  a premier  under  both  systems 
in  the  critical  case  of  cabinet  government — the  case  of 
three  parties.  This  is  the  case  in  which  that  species  of 
government  is  most  sure  to  exhibit  its  defects,  and  least 


136 


THE  ENGLISH  CONST IlTJTION. 


likely  to  exhibit  its  merits.  The  defining  characteristic 
of  that  government  is  the  choice  of  the  executive  ruler 
by  the  legislative  assembly ; but  when  there  are  three 
parties  a satisfactory  choice  is  impossible.  A really  good 
selection  is  a selection  by  a large  majority  which  trusts 
those  it  chooses,  but  when  there  are  three  parties  there 
is  no  such  trust.  The  numerically  weakest  has  the  cast- 
ing vote — it  can  determine  which  candidate  shall  be 
chosen.  But  it  does  so  under  a penalty.  It  forfeits  the 
right  of  voting  for  its  own  candidate.  It  settles  which 
of  other  people's  favourites  shall  be  chosen,  on  condition 
of  abandoning  its  own  favourite.  A choice  based  on  such 
self-denial  can  never  be  a firm  choice — it  is  a choice  at 
any  moment  liable  to  be  revoked.  The  events  of  1858, 
though  not  a perfect  illustration  of  what  I mean,  are  a 
sufiScient  illustration.  The  Eadical  party,  acting  apart 
from  the  moderate  Liberal  party,  kept  Lord  Derby  in 
power.  The  ultra-movement  party  thought  it  expedient 
to  combine  with  the  non-movement  party.  As  one  of 
them  coarsely  but  clearly  put  it,  We  get  more  of  our 
way  under  these  men  than  under  the  other  men;”  he 
meant  that,  in  his  judgment,  the  Tories  would  be  more 
obedient  to  the  Radicals  than  the  Whigs.  But  it  is 
obvious  that  a union  of  opposites  so  marked  could  not 
be  durable.  The  Radicals  bought  it  by  choosing  the 
men  whose  principles  were  most  adverse  to  them  ; the 
Conservatives  bought  it  by  agreeing  to  measures  whose 
scope  was  most  adverse  to  them.  After  a short  interval 
the  Radicals  returned  to  their  natural  alliance  and 
their  natural  discontent  with  the  moderate  Whigs.  They 


THE  MONARCHY. 


137 


ased  their  determining  vote  first  for  a government  of 
one  opinion  and  then  for  a government  of  the  contrary 
opinion. 

I am  not  blaming  this  policy.  I am  using  it  merely 
as  an  illustration.  I say  that  if  we  imagine  this  sort 
of  action  greatly  exaggerated  and  greatly  prolonged 
parliamentary  government  becomes  impossible.  If  there 
are  three  parties,  no  two  of  which  will  steadily  combine 
for  mutual  action,  but  of  which  the  weakest  gives  a 
rapidly  oscillating  preference  to  the  two  others,  the 
primary  condition  of  a cabinet  polity  is  not  satisfied. 
We  have  not  a parliament  fit  to  choose  ; we  cannot  rely 
on  the  selection  of  a suSiciently  permanent  executive, 
because  there  is  no  fixity  in  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of 
the  choosers. 

Under  every  species  of  cabinet  government,  whether 
the  royal  or  the  unroyal,  this  defect  can  be  cured  in  one 
way  only.  The  moderate  people  of  every  ^ party  must 
combine  to  support  the  government  which,  on  the  whole, 
suits  every  party  best.  This  is  the  mode  in  which  Lord 
Palmerston’s  administration  has  been  lately  maintained : 
a ministry  in  many  ways  defective,  but  more  beneficially 
vigorous  abroad,  and  more  beneficially  active  at  home, 
than  the  vast  majority  of  English  ministries.  The  mode- 
rate Conservatives  and  the  moderate  Eadicals  have  main- 
tained a steady  government  by  a sufficiently  coherent 
union  with  the  moderate  Whigs.  Whether  there  is  a 
king  or  no  king,  this  preservative  self-denial  is  the  main 
force  on  which  we  must  rely  for  the  satisfactory  con- 
tinuance of  a parliamentary  government  at  this  its 
10 


138 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


period  of  greatest  trial.  Will  that  moderation  be  aided 
or  impaired  by  the  addition  of  a sovereign?  Will  it  be 
more  effectual  under  the  royal  scrt  of  ministerial  govern- 
ment, or  will  it  be  less  effectual  ? 

If  the  sovereign  has  a genius  for  discernment,  the  aid 
which  he  can  give  at  such  a crisis  will  be  great.  He  will 
select  for  his  minister,  and  if  possible  maintain  as  his 
minister,  the  statesman  upon  whom  the  moderate  party 
will  ultimately  fix  their  choice,  but  for  whom  at  the 
outset  it  is  blindly  searching , being  a man  of  sense, 
experience,  and  tact,  he  will  discern  which  is  the  com- 
bination of  equilibrium,  which  is  the  section  with  whom 
the  milder  members  of  the  other  sections  will  at  last  ally 
themselves.  Amid  the  shifting  transitions  of  confused 
parties,  it  is  probable  that  he  will  have  many  opportu- 
nities of  exercising  a selection.  It  will  rest  with  him  to 
call  either  on  A B to  form  an  administration  or  upon 
X Y,  and  either  may  have  a chance  of  trial.  A disturbed 
state  of  parties  is  inconsistent  with  fixity,  but  it  abounds 
in  momentary  tolerance.  Wanting  something,  but  not 
knowing  with  precision  what,  parties  will  accept  for  a brief 
period  anything,  to  see  whether  it  may  be  that  unknown 
something — to  see  what  it  will  do.  During  the  long 
succession  of  weak  governments  which  begins  with  the 
resignation  of  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  in  1762  and  ends 
with  the  accession  of  Mr.  Pitt  in  1784,  the  vigorous  will 
of  George  III.  was  an  agency  of  the  first  magnitude. 
If  at  a period  of  complex  and  protracted  division  of 
parties,  such  as  are  sure  to  occur  often  and  last  long  in 
every  enduring  parliamentary  government,  the  extrinsic 


THE  MONARCHY. 


139 


A)ice  of  royal  selection  were  always  exercised  discreetly, 
it  would  be  a political  benefit  of  incalculable  value. 

But  will  it  be  so  exercised?  A constitutional  sove^ 
reign  must  in  the  common  course  of  government  be  n 
man  of  but  common  ability.  I am  afraid,  looking  to 
the  early  acquired  feebleness  of  hereditary  dynasties, 
that  we  must  expect  him  to  be  a man  of  inferior  ability. 
Theory  and  experience  both  teach  that  the  education 
of  a prince  can  be  but  a poor  education,  and  that  a 
royal  family  will  generally  have  less  ability  than  other 
families.  What  right  have  we  then  to  expect  the  per- 
petual entail  on  any  family  of  an  exquisite  discretion, 
which  if  it  be  not  a sort  of  genius,  is  at  least  as  rare  as 
genius  ? 

Probably  in  most  cases  the  greatest  wisdom  of  a consti- 
tutional king  would  show  itself  in  well  considered  in- 
action. In  the  confused  interval  between  1857  and  1859 
the  Queen  and  Prince  Albert  were  far  too  wise  to  obtrude 
any  selection  of  their  own.  If  they  had  chosen,  perhaps 
they  would  not  have  chosen  Lord  Palmerston.  But  they 
saw,  or  may  be  believed  to  have  seen,  that  the  world  was 
settling  down  without  them,  and  that  by  interposing  an 
extrinsic  agency,  they  would  but  delay  the  beneficial 
.Tystallisation  of  intrinsic  forces.  There  is,  indeed,  a 
permanent  reason  which  would  make  the  wisest  king,  and 
the  king  who  feels  most  sure  of  his  wisdom,  very  slow  to 
use  that  wisdom.  The  responsibility  of  parliament  should 
be  felt  by  parliament.  So  long  as  parliament  thinks  it  is 
the  sovereign’s  business  to  find  a government  it  will  be 
sme  not  find  a government  itself.  The  royal  form  of 


140 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION, 


ministerial  government  is  the  worst  of  all  forms  if  it 
erect  the  subsidiary  apparatus  into  the  principal  force,  if 
it  induce  the  assembly  which  ought  to  perform  para- 
mount duties  to  expect  some  one  else  to  perform  them. 

It  should  be  observed,  too,  in  fairness  to  the  unroyal 
species  of  cabinet  government,  that  it  is  exempt  from  one 
of  the  greatest  and  most  characteristic  defects  of  the  royal 
species.  Where  there  is  no  court  there  can  be  no  evil 
influence  from  a court.  What  these  influences  are  every 
one  knows;  though  no  one,  hardly  the  best  and  closest 
observer,  can  say  with  confidence  and  precision  how  great 
their  effect  is.  Sir  Eobert  Walpole,  in  language  too 
coarse  for  our  modern  manners,  declared  after  the  death 
of  Queen  Caroline,  that  he  would  pay  no  attention  to  the 
king’s  daughters  (“  those  girls,”  as  he  called  them),  but 
would  rely  exclusively  on  Madame  de  Walmoden,  the 
king’s  mistress.  ^‘The  king,”  says  a writer  in  Greorge 
IV.’s  time,  “ is  in  our  favour,  and  what  is  more  to  the 
purpose,  the  Marchioness  of  Conyngham  is  so  too.”  Every- 
body knows  to  what  sort  of  influences  several  Italian 
changes  of  government  since  the  unity  of  Italy  have 
been  attributed.  These  sinister  agencies  are  likely  to  be 
most  effective  just  when  everything  else  is  troubled,  and 
when,  therefore,  they  are  particularly  dangerous.  The 
wildest  and  wickedest  king’s  mistress  would  not  plot 
against  an  invulnerable  administration.  But  very  many 
will  intrigue  when  parliament  is  perplexed,  when  parties 
are  divided,  when  alternatives  are  many,  when  many  evil 
things  are  possible,  when  cabinet  government  must  be 
difficult. 


THE  MONAECHY. 


141 


It  is  very  important  to  see  that  a good  administration 
can  be  started  without  a sovereign,  because  some  colonial 
statesmen  have  doubted  it.  I can  conceive,”  it  has  been 
said,  that  a ministry  would  go  on  well  enough  without 
a governor  when  it  was  launched,  but  I do  not  see  how  to 
launch  it.”  It  has  even  been  suggested  that  a colony 
\^hich  broke  away  from  England,  and  had  to  form  its  own 
government,  might  not  unwisely  choose  a governor  for 
life,  and  solely  trusted  with  selecting  ministers,  something 
like  the  Abbe  Sieyes’s  grand  elector.  But  the  introduc 
tion  of  such  an  officer  into  such  a colony  would  in  fact  be 
the  voluntary  erection  of  an  artificial  encumbrance  to  it. 
He  would  inevitably  be  a party  man.  The  most  dignified 
post  in  the  State  must  be  an  object  of  contest  to  the  great 
sections  into  which  every  active  political  community  is 
divided.  These  parties  mix  in  everything  and  meddle  in 
everything  ; and  they  neither  would  nor  could  permit  the 
most  honoured  and  conspicuous  of  all  stations  to  be  filled, 
except  at  their  pleasure.  They  know,  too,  that  the  grand 
elector,  the  great  chooser  of  ministries,  might  be,  at  a 
sharp  crisis,  either  a good  friend  or  a bad  enemy.  The 
strongest  party  would  select  some  one  who  would  be  on 
their  side  when  he  had  to  take  a side,  who  would  incline 
to  them  when  he  did  incline,  who  should  be  a constant 
auxiliary  to  them  and  a constant  impediment  to  their 
adversaries.  It  is  absurd  to  choose  by  contested  party 
election  an  impartial  chooser  of  ministers. 

But  it  is  during  ,the  continuance  of  a ministry,  rather  \ 
than  at  its  creation,  tdat  the  functions  of  the  sovereign 
will  mainly  interest  most  persons,  and  that  most  people 


142 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITCJTION. 


will  think  them  to  he  of  the  gravest  importance.  I own 
I am  myself  of  that  opinion.  I think  it  may  be  shown 
that  the  post  of  sovereign  over  an  intelligent  and  political 
people  under  a constitutional  monarchy  is  the  post  which 
a wise  man  would  choose  above  any  other — where  he 
would  find  the  intellectual  impulses  best  stimulated  and 
the  worst  intellectual  impulses  best  controlled. 

On  the  duties  of  the  Queen  during  an  administration 
we  have  an  invaluable  fragment  from  her  own  hand.  In 
1851  Louis  Napoleon  had  his  coup  d^etat;  in  1852  Lord 
John  Eussell  had  his — he  expelled  Lord  Palmerston.  By 
a most  instructive  breach  of  etiquette  he  read  in  the 
House  a royal  memorandum  on  the  duties  of  his  rival. 
It  is  as  follows  : — “ The  Queen  requires,  first,  that  Lord 
Palmerston  will  distinctly  state  what  he  proposes  in  a 
given  case,  in  order  that  the  Queen  may  know  as  distinctly 
to  what  she  is  giving  her  royal  sanction.  Secondly,  hav- 
ing once  given  her  sanction  to  such  a measure  that  it  be 
not  arbitrarily  altered  or  modified  by  the  minister.  Such 
an  act  she  must  consider  as  failing  in  sincerity  towards 
the  Crown,  and  justly  to  be  visited  by  the  exercise  of  her 
constitutional  right  of  dismissing  that  minister.  She 
expects  to  be  kept  informed  of  what  passes  between  him 
and  foreign  ministers  before  important  decisions  are  taken 
based  upon  that  intercourse ; to  receive  the  foreign 
despatches  in  good  time  ; and  to  have  the  drafts  for  her 
approval  sent  to  her  in  sufficient  time  to  make  herself 
acquainted  with  their  contents  before  they  must  be  sent 
off.” 

In  addition  to  the  control  over  particular  ministerSi 


THE  MONAECHY. 


143 


and  especially  over  the  foreign  minister,  the  Queen  has 
a certain  control  over  the  Cabinet.  The  first  minister, 
it  is  understood,  transmits  to  her  authentic  information 
of  all  the  most  important  decisions,  together  with  what 
the  newspapers  would  do  equally  well,  the  more  impor- 
tant votes  in  Parliament.  He  is  bound  to  take  care  that 
she  knows  everything  which  there  is  to  know  as  to  the 
passing  politics  of  the  nation.  She  has  by  rigid  usage  a 
right  to  complain  if  she  does  not  know  of  every  great  act 
of  her  ministry,  not  only  before  it  is  done,  but  while  there 
is  yet  time  to  consider  it — while  it  is  still  possible  that  it 
may  not  be  done. 

To  state  the  matter  shortly,  the  sovereign  has,  under 
a constitutional  monarchy  such  as  ours,  three  rights — 
the  right  to  be  consulted,  the  right  to  encourage,  the 
right  to  warn.  And  a king  of  great  sense  and  sagacity 
would  want  no  others.  He  would  find  that  his  having 
no  others  would  enable  him  to  use  these  with  singular 
effect.  He  would  say  to  his  minister : The  responsi- 
bility of  these  measures  is  upon  you.  Whatever  you 
think  best  must  be  done.  Whatever  you  think  best 
shall  have  my  full  and  effectual  support.  But  you  will 
observe  that  for  this  reason  and  that  reason  what  you 
propose  to  do  is  bad ; for  this  reason  and  that  reason 
what  you  do  not  propose  is  better.  I do  not  oppose,  it 
is  my  duty  not  to  oppose ; but  observe  that  I wam.^'* 
Supposing  the  king  to  be  right,  and  to  have  what  kings 
often  have,  the  gift  of  effectual  expression,  he  could  not 
help  moving  his  minister.  He  might  not  always  turn  hia 
course,  but  he  would  always  trouble  his  mind. 


144 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


In  the  course  of  a long  reign  a sagacious  king  xvould 
acquire  an  experience  with  which  few  ministers  could 
contend.  The  king  could  say : “ Have  you  referred  to 
the  transactions  which  happened  during  such  and  such 
an  administration,  I think  about  fourteen  years  ago  ? 
They  afford  an  instructive  example  of  the  bad  results 
which  are  sure  to  attend  the  policy  which  you  propose. 
You  did  not  at  that  time  take  so  prominent  a part  in 
public  life  as  you  now  do,  and  it  is  possible  you  do  not 
fully  remember  all  the  events.  I should  recommend 
you  to  recur  to  them,  and  to  discuss  them  with  your  older 
colleagues  who  took  part  in  them.  It  is  unwise  to  recom- 
mence a policy  which  so  lately  worked  so  ill.”  The  king 
would  indeed  have  the  advantage  which  a permanent 
under-secretary  has  over  his  superior  the  parliamentary 
secretary — that  of  having  shared  in  the  proceedings  of  the 
previous  parliamentary  secretaries.  These  proceedings 
were  part  of  his  own  life ; occupied  the  best  of  his 
thoughts,  gave  him  perhaps  anxiety,  perhaps  pleasure, 
were  commenced  in  spite  of  his  dissuasion,  or  were  sanc- 
tioned by  his  approval.  The  parliamentary  secretary 
vaguely  remembers  that  something  was  done  in  the 
time  of  some  of  his  predecessors,  when  he  very  likely 
did  not  know  the  least  or  care  the  least  about  that  sort 
of  public  business.  He  has  to  begin  by  learning  pain- 
fully and  imperfectly  what  the  permanent  secretary 
knows  by  clear  and  instant  memory.  No  doubt  a par- 
liamentary secretary  always  can,  and  sometimes  does, 
silence  his  subordinate  by  the  tacit  might  of  his  superioi 
dignity.  He  says  : I do  not  think  there  is  much  in  all 


THE  MONARCHY. 


145 


that.  Many  errors  were  committed  at  the  time  you  refer 
to  which  we  need  not  now  discuss.”  A pompous  man 
easily  sweeps  away  the  suggestions  of  those  beneath  him. 

But  though  a minister  may  so  deal  with  his  subordinate, 

0 

he  cannot  so  deal  with  his  king.  The  social  force  of 
admitted  superiority  by  which  he  overturned  his  under- 
secretary is  now  not  with  him  but  against  him.  He  has 
no  longer  to  regard  the  deferential  hints  of  an  acknow- 
ledged inferior,  but  to  answer  the  arguments  of  a superior 
to  whom  he  has  himself  to  be  respectful.  George  III.  in 
fact  knew  the  forms  of  public  business  as  well  or  better 
than  any  statesman  of  his  time.  If,  in  addition  to  his 
capacity  as  a man  of  business  and  to  his  industry,  he  had 
possessed  the  higher  faculties  of  a discerning  statesman, 
his  influence  would  have  been  despotic.  The  old  Con- 
stitution of  England  undoubtedly  gave  a sort  of  power 
to  the  Crown  which  our  present  Constitution  does  not 
give.  While  a majority  in  parliament  was  principally 
purchased  by  royal  patronage,  the  king  was  a party  to 
the  bargain  either  with  his  minister  or  without  his 
minister.  But  even  under  our  present  constitution  a 
monarch  like  George  III.,  with  high  abilities,  would 
possess  the  greatest  influence.  It  is  known  to  all  Europe 
that  in  Belgium  King  Leopold  has  exercised  immense 
power  by  the  use  of  such  means  as  I have  described. 

It  is  known,  too,  to  every  one  conversant  with  the  real 
course  of  the  recent  history  of  England,  that  Prince 
Albert  really  did  gain  great  power  in  precisely  the  same 
way.  He  had  the  rare  gifts  of  a constitutional  monarch. 
If  his  life  had  been  prolonged  twenty  years,  his  name 


146 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


would  have  been  known  to  Europe  as  that  of  King 
Leopold  is  known.  While  he  lived  he  was  at  a disad- 
vantage. The  statesmen  who  had  most  power  in  England 
were  men  of  far  greater  experience  than  himself.  He 
might,  and  no  doubt  did,  exercise  a great,  if  not  a com- 
manding influence  over  Lord  Malmesbmy,  but  he  could  not 
rule  Lord  Palmerston.  The  old  statesman  who  governed 
England,  at  an  age  when  most  men  are  unfit  to  govern 
their  own  families,  remembered  a whole  generation  of 
statesmen  who  were  dead  before  Prince  Albert  was  born. 
The  two  were  of  different  ages  and  different  natures. 
The  elaborateness  of  the  German  prince — an  elaborate- 
ness which  has  been  justly  and  happily  compared  with 
that  of  Goethe — was  wholly  alien  to  the  half-Irish, 
half-English,  statesman.  The  somewhat  boisterous  cour- 
age in  minor  dangers,  and  the  obtrusive  use  of  an 
always  effectual,  but  not  always  refined,  common-place, 
which  are  Lord  Palmerston’s  defects,  doubtless  grated  on 
Prince  Albert,  who  had  a scholar’s  caution  and  a scholar’s 
* courage.  The  facts  will  be  known  to  our  children’s 
children,  though  not  to  us.  Prince  Albert  did  much, 
but  he  died  ere  he  could  have  made  his  influence  felt  on 
d generation  of  statesmen  less  experienced  than  he  was, 
and  anxious  to  learn  from  him. 

It  would  be  childish  to  suppose  that  a conference 
between  a minister  and  his  sovereign  can  ever  be  a con- 
ference of  pure  argument.  ^‘The  divinity  which  doth 
nedge  a king  ” may  have  less  sanctity  than  it  had,  but  it 
still  has  much  sanctity.  No  one,  or  scarcely  any  one,  can  ar- 
gue with  a cabinet  minister  in  his  own  room  as  well  as  h6 


THE  MONARCHY. 


147 


fv’ould  argue  with  another  man  in  another  room.  He 
cannot  make  his  own  points  as  well ; he  cannot  unmake 
as  well  the  points  presented  to  him.  A monarch’s  room 
is  worse.  The  best  instance  is  Lord  Chatham,  the  most 
dictatorial  and  imperious  of  English  statesmen,  and 
almost  the  first  English  statesman  who  was  borne  into 
power  against  the  wishes  of  the  king  and  against  the 
wishes  of  the  nobility — the  first  popular  minister.  YVe 
might  have  expected  a proud  tribune  of  the  people  to  be 
dictatorial  to  his  sovereign — to  be  to  the  king  what  he 
was  to  all  others.  On  the  contrary,  lie  was  the  slave  of 
his  own  imagination  ; there  was  a kind  of  mystic  enchant- 
ment in  vicinity  to  the  monarch  which  divested  him  of 
his  ordinary  nature.  The  last  peep  into  the  king’s 
closet,”  said  Mr.  Burke,  intoxicates  him,  and  will  to 
the  end  of  his  life.”  A wit  said  that,  even  at  the  levee, 
he  bowed  so  low  that  you  could  see  the  tip  of  his  hooked 
nose  between  his  legs.  He  was  in  the  habit  of  kneeling 
at  the  bedside  of  George  III.  while  transacting  business. 
Now  no  man  can  argue  on  his  knees.  The  same  super- 
stitious feeling  which  keeps  him  in  that  physical  attitude 
will  keep  him  in  a corresponding  mental  attitude.  He 
will  not  refute  the  bad  arguments  of  the  king  as  he  will 
refute  another  man’s  bad  arguments.  He  will  not  state 
his  own  best  arguments  effectively  and  incisively  when  he 
knows  that  the  king  would  not  like  to  hear  them.  In  a 
nearly  balanced  argument  the  king  must  always  have  the 
better,  and  in  politics  many  most  important  arguments 
are  nearly  balanced.  Whenever  there  was  much  to  be 
said  for  the  king’s  opinion  it  would  have  its  full  weight ; 


14:8 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


whatever  was  said  for  the  minister’s  opinions  would  onlj 
have  a lessened  and  enfeebled  weight. 

The  king,  too,  possesses  a power,  according  to  theory, 
for  extreme  use  on  a critical  occasion,  but  which  he  can  in 
law  use  on  any  occasion.  He  can  dissolve ; he  can  say  to 
his  minister  in  fact,  if  not  in  words,  This  parliament 
sent  you  here,  but  I will  see  if  I cannot  get  another 
parliament  to  send  some  one  else  here.”  Greorge  III. 
well  understood  that  it  was  best  to  take  his  stand  at  times 
and  on  points  when  it  was  perhaps  likely,  or  at  any  rate 
not  unlikely,  the  nation  would  support  him.  He  always 
made  a minister  that  he  did  not  like  tremble  at  the 
shadow  of  a possible  successor.  He  had  a cunning  in 
such  matters  like  the  cunning  of  insanity.  He  had  con- 
flicts with  the  ablest  men  of  his  time,  and  he  was  hardly 
ever  baffled.  He  understood  how  to  help  a feeble  argu- 
ment by  a tacit  threat,  and  how  best  to  address  it  to  an 
habitual  deference. 

Perhaps  such  powers  as  these  are  what  a wise  man 
would  most  seek  to  exercise  and  least  fear  to  possess. 
To  wish  to  be  a despot,  to  hunger  after  tyranny,”  as  the 
Greek  phrase  had  it,  marks  in  our  day  an  uncultivated 
mind.  A person  who  so  wishes  cannot  have  weighed 
what  Butler  calls  the  “ doubtfulness  things  are  involved 
in.”  To  be  sure  you  are  right  to  impose  your  will,  or  to 
wish  to  impose  it,  with  violence  upon  others ; to  see 
your  own  ideas  vividly  and  fixedly,  and  to  be  tormented 
till  you  can  apply  them  in  life  and  practice,  not  to  like 
to  hear  the  opinions  of  others,  to  be  unable  to  sit  down 
and  weigh  the  truth  they  have,  are  but  crude  states  of  in’* 


THE  MONAKCHY. 


149 


tellect  in  our  present  civilisation.  We  know,  at  least, 
that  facts  are  many ; that  progress  is  complicated ; that 
burning  ideas  (such  as  young  men  have)  are  mostly  false 
and  always  incomplete.  The  notion  of  a far-seeing  and 
despotic  statesman,  who  can  lay  down  plans  for  ages  yet 
unborn,  is  a fancy  generated  by  the  pride  of  the  human 
intellect  to  which  facts  give  no  support.  The  plans  of 
Charlemagne  died  with  him ; those  of  Richelieu  were 
mistaken ; those  of  Napoleon  gigantesque  and  frantic. 
But  a wise  and  great  constitutional  monarch  attempts 
no  such  vanities.  His  career  is  not  in  the  air ; he 
labours  in  the  world  of  sober  fact;  he  deals  with  schemes 
which  can  be  effected — schemes  which  are  desirable- 
schemes  which  are  worth  the  cost.  He  says  to  the 
ministry  his  people  send  to  him,  to  ministry  after 
ministry,  “ I think  so  and  so  ; do  you  see  if  there  is 
anything  in  it.  I have  put  down  my  reasons  in  a cer- 
tain memorandum,  which  I will  give  you.  Probably  h 
does  not  exhaust  the  subject,  but  it  will  suggest  mate- 
rials  for  your  consideration.”  By  years  of  discussion 
with  ministry  after  ministry,  the  best  plans  of  the  wisest 
king  would  certainly  be  adopted,  and  the  inferior  plans, 
the  impracticable  plans,  rooted  out  and  rejected.  He 
could  not  be  uselessly  beyond  his  time,  for  he  would 
have  been  obliged  to  convince  the  representatives,  the 
characteristic  men  of  his  time.  He  would  have  the 
best  means  of  proving  that  he  was  right  on  all  new  and 
strange  matters,  for  he  would  have  won  to  his  side  pro- 
bably, after  years  of  discussion,  the  chosen  agents  of  the 
common-place  world — men  who  were  where  they  w^re, 


150 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


because  they  had  pleased  the  men  of  the  existing  age, 
w^ho  will  never  be  much  disposed  to  new  conceptions  or 
profound  thoughts.  A sagacious  and  original  constitu- 
tional monarch  might  go  to  his  grave  in  peace  if  any 
man  could.  He  would  know  that  his  best  laws  were  in 
harmony  with  his  age ; that  they  suited  the  people  who 
were  to  work  them,  the  people  who  were  to  be  benefited 
by  them.  And  he  would  have  passed  a happy  life.  He 
would  have  passed  a life  in  which  he  could  always  get 
his  arguments  heard,  in  which  he  could  always  make 
those  who  had  the  responsibility  of  action  tliink  of  them 
before  they  acted — in  which  he  could  know  that  the 
schemes  which  he  had  set  at  work  in  the  world  were  not 
the  casual  accidents  of  an  individual  idiosyncrasy,  which 
are  mostly  much  wrong,  but  the  likeliest  of  all  things 
to  be  right — the  ideas  of  one  very  intelligent  man  at 
last  accepted  and  acted  on  by  the  ordinary  intelligent 
many. 

But  can  we  expect  such  a king,  or,  for  that  is  the 
material  point,  can  we  expect  a lineal  series  of  such 
kings  ? Every  one  has  heard  the  reply  of  the  Emperor 
Alexander  to  Madame  de  Stael,  who  favoured  him  with 
a declamation  in  praise  of  beneficent  despotism.  Yes, 
Madame,  but  it  is  only  a happy  accident.”  He  well  knew 
that  the  great  abilities  and  the  good  intentions  necessary 
to  make  an  eJBScient  and  good  despot  never  were  con- 
tinuously combined  in  any  line  of  rulers.  He  knew  that 
they  were  far  out  of  reach  of  hereditary  human  nature. 
Can  it  be  said  that  the  characteristic  qualities  of  a con- 
stitutional  monarch  are  more  within  its  reach?  I am 


THE  MONARCHY. 


15J 


afraid  it  cannot.  We  found  just  now  that  the  charac- 
teristic use  of  an  hereditary  constitutional  monarch,  at 
the  outset  of  an  administration,  greatly  surpassed  the 
ordinary  competence  of  hereditary  faculties.  I fear  that 
an  impartial  investigation  will  establish  the  same  con- 
clusion as  to  his  uses  during  the  continuance  of  an  ad- 
ministration. 

If  we  look  at  history,  we  shall  find  that  it  is  only 
during  the  period  of  the  present  reign  that  in  England 
the  duties  of  a constitutional  sovereign  have  ever  been 
well  performed.  The  first  two  Gieorges  were  ignorant 
of  English  affairs,  and  wholly  unable  to  guide  them, 
whether  well  or  ill ; for  many  years  in  their  time  the 
Prime  Minister  had,  over  and  above  the  labour  of  ma- 
naging parliament,  to  manage  the  woman — sometimes 
the  queen,  sometimes  the  mistress — who  managed  the 
sovereign  ; George  III.  interfered  unceasingly,  but  he 
did  harm  unceasingly;  George  IV.  and  William  IV. 
gave  no  steady  continuing  guidance,  and  were  unfit  to 
give  it.  On  the  Continent,  in  first-class  countries,  con- 
stitutional royalty  has  never  lasted  out  of  one  generation. 
Louis  Philippe,  Victor  Emmanuel,  and  Leopold  are  the 
founders  of  their  dynasties ; we  must  not  reckon  in  con- 
stitutional monarchy  any  more  than  in  despotic  monarchy 
on  the  permanence  in  the  descendants  of  the  peculiar 
genius  which  founded  the  race.  As  far  as  experience 
goes,  there  is  no  reason  to  expect  an  hereditary  series  of 
useful  limited  monarchs. 

If  we  look  to  theory,  there  is  even  less  reason  to  expect 
it.  A monarch  is  useful  when  he  gives  an  effectual  and 


152 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


beneficial  guidance  to  his  ministers.  But  these  ministers 
are  sure  to  be  among  the  ablest  men  of  their  time.  They 
will  have  had  to  conduct  the  business  of  parliament  so  as 
to  satisfy  it : they  will  have  to  speak  so  as  to  satisfy  it. 
The  two  together  cannot  be  done  save  by  a man  of  very 
great  and  varied  ability.  The  exercise  of  the  two  gifts  is 
sure  to  teach  a man  much  of  the  world ; and  if  it  did 
not,  a parliamentary  leader  has  to  pass  through  a mag- 
nificent training  before  he  becomes  a leader.  He  has  to 
gain  a seat  in  parliament ; to  gain  the  ear  of  parliament  i 
to  gain  the  confidence  of  parliament ; to  gain  the  con- 
fidence of  his  colleagues.  No  one  can  achieve  these — ^no 
one,  still  more,  can  both  achieve  them  and  retain  them — 
without  a singular  ability,  nicely  trained  in  the  varied 
detail  of  life.  What  chance  has  an  hereditary  monarch 
such  as  nature  forces  him  to  be,  such  as  history  shows  he 
is,  against  men  so  educated  and  so  born  ? He  can  but  be 
an  average  man  to  begin  with ; sometimes  he  will  be 
clever,  but  sometimes  he  will  be  stupid  ; in  the  long  run 
he  will  be  neither  clever  nor  stupid : he  will  be  the 
simple,  common  man  who  plods  the  plain  routine  of  life 
from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  His  education  will  be  that 
of  one  who  has  never  had  to  struggle ; who  has  always 
felt  that  he  has  nothing  to  gain ; who  has  had  the  first 
dignity  given  him ; who  has  never  seen  common  life  as 
in  truth  it  is.  It  is  idle  to  expect  an  ordinary  man  born 
in  the  purple  to  have  greater  genius  than  an  extraordi- 
nary man  born  out  of  the  purple ; to  expect  a man  whose 
place  has  always  been  fixed  to  have  a bettei  judgment 
than  one  who  has  lived  by  his  judgment;  to  expect  a 


THE  MONAECHY. 


153 


man  whose  career  will  be  the  same  whether  he  is  discreet 
or  whether  he  is  indiscreet  to  have  the  nice  discretion  of 
one  who  has  risen  by  his  wisdom,  who  will  fall  if  Le 
ceases  to  be  wise. 

The  characteristic  advantage  of  a constitutional  king  is 
the  permanence  of  his  place.  This  gives  him  the  oppor- 
tunity of  acquiring  a consecutive  knowledge  of  complex 
transactions,  but  it  gives  only  an  opportunity.  The  king 
must  use  it.  There  is  no  royal  road  to  political  affairs : 
their  detail  is  vast,  disagreeable,  complicated,  and  mis- 
cellaneous. A king,  to  be  the  equal  of  his  ministers  in 
discussion,  must  work  as  they  work ; he  must  be  a man 
of  business  as  they  are  men  of  business.  Yet  a con- 
stitutional prince  is  the  man  who  is  most  tempted  to 
pleasure,  and  the  least  forced  to  business.  A despot 
must  feel  that  he  is  the  pivot  of  the  State.  The  stress 
of  his  kingdom  is  upon  him.  As  he  is,  so  are  his  affairs. 
He  may  be  seduced  into  pleasure  ; he  may  neglect  all 
else  ; but  the  risk  is  evident.  He  will  hurt  himself ; he 
may  cause  a revolution.  If  he  becomes  unfit  to  govern, 
some  one  else  who  is  fit  may  conspire  against  him.  But 
a constitutional  king  need  fear  nothing.  He  may  neglect 
his  duties,  but  he  will  not  be  injured.  His  place  will  be 
as  fixed,  his  income  as  permanent,  his  opportunities  of 
selfish  enjoyment  as  full  as  ever.  Why  should  he  work  ? 
It  is  true  he  will  lose  the  quiet  and  secret  influence 
which  in  the  course  of  years  industry  would  gain  for 
Him ; but  an  eager  young  man,  on  whom  the  world  is 
squandering  its  luxuries  and  its  temptations,  will  not  be 
much  attracted  by  the  distant  prospect  of  a moderate 


154 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


influence  over  dull  matters.  He  may  form  good  inten- 
tions ; he  may  say,  J^ext  year  I will  read  these  papers ; 
I will  try  and  ask  more  questions ; I will  not  let  these 
women  talk  to  me  so.’’  But  they  will  talk  to  him.  The 
most  hopeless  idleness  is  that  most  smoothed  with  ex- 
cellent plans.  “ The  Lord  Treasurer,”  says  Swift,  pro- 
mised he  will  settle  it  to-night,  and  so  he  will  say  a 
hundred  nights.”  We  may  depend  upon  it  the  ministry 
whose  power  will  be  lessened  by  the  prince’s  attention 
will  not  be  too  eager  to  get  him  to  attend. 

So  it  is  if  the  prince  come  young  to  the  throne ; but 
the  case  is  worse  when  he  comes  to  it  old  or  middle-aged. 
He  is  then  unfit  to  work.  He  will  then  have  spent  the 
whole  of  youth  and  the  first  part  of  manhood  in  idleness, 
and  it  is  unnatural  to  expect  him  to  labour.  A pleasure- 
loving  lounger  in  middle  life  will  not  begin  to  work  as 
Greorge  III.  worked,  or  as  Prince  Albert  worked.  The 
only  fit  material  for  a constitutional  king  is  a prince  who 
begins  early  to  reign — who  in  his  youth  is  superior  to 
pleasure — ^who  in  his  youth  is  willing  to  labour — who  has 
by  nature  a genius  for  discretion.  Such  kings  are  among 
God’s  greatest  gifts,  but  they  are  also  among  His  rarest. 

An  ordinary  idle  king  on  a constitutional  throne  will 
leave  no  mark  on  his  time ; he  will  do  little  good  and  as 
little  harm  ; the  royal  form  of  cabinet  government  will 
work  in  his  time  pretty  much  as  the  unroyal.  The  addi- 
tion of  a cypher  will  not  matter  though  it  take  preceden(je 
of  the  significant  figures.  But  corruptio  optima  pessima^ 
The  most  evil  case  of  the  royal  form  is  far  worse  than  the 
most  evil  case  of  the  unroyal.  It  is  easy  to  imagine, 


THE  MONAKCIIY. 


155 


apon  a constitutional  throne,  an  active  and  meddling  fool 
who  always  acts  when  he  should  not,  who  never  acts  when 
he  should,  who  warns  his  ministers  against  their  judicious 
measures,  who  encourages  them  in  their  injudicious  mea- 
sures. It  is  easy  to  imagine  that  such  a king  should  be 
the  tool  of  others ; that  favourites  should  guide  him  ; 
that  mistresses  should  corrupt  him ; that  the  atmosphere 
of  a bad  court  should  be  used  to  degrade  free  govern- 
ment. 

We  have  had  an  awful  instance  of  the  dangers  of  con- 
stitutional royalty.  We  have  had  the  case  of  a meddling 
maniac.  During  great  part  of  his  life  George  III.’s 
reason  was  half  upset  by  every  crisis.  Throughout  his 
life  he  had  an  obstinacy  akin  to  that  of  insanity.  He 
was  an  obstinate  and  an  evil  influence ; he  could  not  be 
turned  from  what  was  inexpedient ; by  the  aid  of  his 
station  he  turned  truer  but  weaker  men  from  what  was 
expedient.  He  gave  an  excellent  moral  example  to  his 
contemporaries,  but  he  is  an  instance  of  those  whose  good 
dies  with  them,  while  their  evil  lives  after  them.  He 
prolonged  the  American  war,  perhaps  he  caused  the 
American  war,  so  we  inherit  the  vestiges  of  an  American 
hatred ; he  forbad  Mr.  Pitt’s  wise  plans,  so  we  inherit  an 
Irish  difficulty.  He  would  not  let  us  do  right  in  time,  so 
now  our  attempts  at  right  are  out  of  time  and  fruitless. 
Constitutional  royalty  under  an  active  and  half-insane 
king  is  one  of  the  worst  of  governments.  There  is  in  it 
a secret  power  which  is  always  eager,  which  is  generally 
obstinate,  which  is  often  wrong,  which  rules  ministers 
than  they  know  themselves,  which  overpowers  them 


156 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


much  more  than  the  public  believe,  which  is  irresponsible 
because  it  is  inscrutable,  which  cannot  be  prevented 
because  it  cannot  be  seen.  The  benefits  of  a good 
monarch  are  almost  invaluable,  but  thei  evils  of  a bad 
monarch  are  almost  irreparable. 

We  shall  find  these  conclusions  confirmed  if  we  ex- 
amine the  powers  and  duties  of  an  English  monarch  at 
the  break-up  of  an  administration.  But  the  power  of 
dissolution  and  the  prerogative  of  creating  peers,  the 
cardinal  powers  of  that  moment,  are  too  important  and 
involve  too  many  complex  matters  to  be  sufficiently 
treated  at  the  very  end  of  a paper  as  long  as  this. 


y. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 

In  my  last  essay  I showed  that  it  was  possible  for  a con- 
stiiutional  monarch  to  be,  when  occasion  served,  of  first- 
rate  use  both  at  the  outset  and  during  the  continuance  of 
an  administration ; but  that  in  matter  of  fact  it  was  not 
likely  that  he  would  be  useful.  The  requisite  ideas, 
habits,  and  faculties  far  surpass  the  usual  competence  of 
an  average  man,  educated  in  the  common  manner  of 
sovereigns.  The  same  arguments  are  entirely  applicable 
at  the  close  of  an  administration.  But  at  that  conjunc- 
ture the  two  most  singular  prerogatives  of  an  English 
king — the  power  of  creating  new  peers  and  the  power  of 
dissolving  the  Commons — come  into  play  ; and  we  cannot 
duly  criticise  the  use  or  misuse  of  these  powers  till  we 
know  what  the  peers  are  and  what  the  House  of  Com- 
mons is. 

The  use  of  the  House  of  Lords — or,  rather,  of  the 
Lords,  in  its  dignified  capacity — is  very  great.  It  does 
not  attract  so  much  reverence  as  the  Queen,  but  it  attracts 
very  much.  The  office  of  an  order  of  nobility  is  to 
impose  on  the  common  people — not  necessarily  to  impose 
on  them  what  is  untrue,  yet  less  what  is  hurtful ; but 


158 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


still  to  impose  on  their  quiescent  imaginations  what 
would  not  otherwise  be  there.  The  fancy  of  the  mass 
of  men  is  incredibly  weak  ; it  can  see  nothing  without 
a visible  symbol,  and  there  is  much  that  it  can  scarcely 
make  out  with  a symbol.  Nobility  is  the  S37Tnbol  of  ^ 
mind.  It  has  the  marks  from  which  the  mass  of  men 
always  used  to  infer  mind,  and  often  still  infer  it.  A 
common  clever  man  who  goes  into  a country  place  will 
get  no  reverence  ; but  the  “ old  squire  ” will  get  reverence. 
Even  after  he  is  insolvent,  when  every  one  knows  that  his 
ruin  is  but  a question  of  time,  he  will  get  five  times  as 
much  respect  from  the  common  peasantry  as  the  newly- 
made  rich  man  who  sits  beside  him.  The  common  pea- 
santry will  listen  to  his  nonsense  more  submissively  than 
to  the  new  man’s  sense.  An  old  lord  will  get  infinite 
respect.  His  very  existence  is  so  far  useful  that  it 
awakens  the  sensation  of  obedience  to  a sort  of  mind  in 
the  coarse,  dull,  contracted  multitude,  who  could  neither 
appreciate  or  perceive  any  other. 

The  order  of  nobility  is  of  great  use,  too,  not  only 
in  what  it  creates,  but  in  what  it  prevents.  It  prevents 
the  rule  of  wealth — the  religion  of  gold.  This  is  the 
obvious  and  natural  idol  of  the  Anglo-Saxon.  He  is 
always  trying  to  make  money ; he  reckons  everything 
in  coin ; he  bows  down  before  a great  heap,  and  sneers 
as  he  passes  a little  heap.  He  has  a natural  instinctive 
admiration  of  wealth  for  its  own  sake.”  And  within  good 
limits  the  feeling  is  quite  right.  So  long  as  we  play  the 
o^ame  of  industry  vigorously  and  eagerly  (and  I hope  we 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


169 


ghall  long  play  it,  for  we  must  be  very  different  from  what 
we  are  if  we  do  anything  better),  we  shall  of  necessity 
respect  and  admire  those  who  play  successfully,  and  a 
little  despise  those  who  play  unsuccessfully.  Whether 
this  feeling  be  right  or  wrong,  it  is  useless  to  discuss ; to 
a certain  degree,  it  is  involuntary : it  is  not  for  mortals 
to  settle  whether  we  will  have  it  or  not ; nature  settles 
for  us  that,  within  moderate  limits,  we  must  have  it.  But 
the  admiration  of  wealth  in  many  countries  goes  far 
beyond  this  ; it  ceases  to  regard  in  any  degree  the  skill 
of  acquisition ; it  respects  wealth  in  the  hands  of  the 
inheritor  just  as  much  as  in  the  hands  of  the  maker ; it  is 
a simple  envy  and  love  of  a heap  of  gold  as  a heap  of  gold. 
From  this  our  aristocracy  preserves  us.  There  is  no  country 
where  a “ poor  devil  of  a millionnaire  is  so  ill  off  as  in 
England.”  The  experiment  is  tried  every  day,  and  every 
day  it  is  proved  that  money  alone — money  'pur  et  simple 
— will  not  buy  “ London  Society.”  Money  is  kept  down, 
and,  so  to  say,  cowed  by  the  predominant  authority  of  a 
different  power. 

But  it  may  be  said  that  this  is  no  gain ; that  worship  for 
worship,  the  worship  of  money  is  as  good  as  the  worship 
of  rank.  Even  granting  that  it  were  so,  it  is  a great 
gain  to  society  to  have  two  idols ; in  the  competition  of 
idolatries,  the  true  worship  gets  a chance.  But  it  is  not 
true  that  the  reverence  for  rank — at  least,  for  hereditary 
rank — is  as  base  as  the  reverence  for  money.  As  the 
world  has  gone,  manner  has  been  half-hereditary  in  certain 
castes,  and  manner  is  one  of  the  fine  arts.  It  is  the 


160 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


dtyle  of  society ; it  is  in  the  daily-spoken  intercourse  of 
human  beings  what  the  art  of  literary  expression  is  in 
their  occasional  written  intercourse.  In  reverencing 
wealth  we  reverence  not  a man,  but  an  appendix  to  a 
man ; in  reverencing  inherited  nobility,  we  reverence  the 
probable  possession  of  a great  faculty — the  faculty  of 
bringing  out  what  is  in  one.  The  unconscious  grace  of 
life  may  be  in  the  middle  classes : finely-mannered  per- 
sons are  bom  everywhere ; but  it  ought  to  be  in  the 
aristocracy ; and  a man  must  be  born  with  a hitch  in  his 
nerves  if  he  has  not  some  of  it.  It  is  a physiological 
possession  of  the  race,  though  it  is  sometimes  wanting  in 
the  individual. 

There  is  a third  idolatry  from  which  that  of  rank  pre- 
serves us,  and  perhaps  it  is  the  worst  of  any — that  of 
office.  The  basest  deity  is  a subordinate  employe^  and 
yet  just  now  in  civilised  governments  it  is  the  commonest. 
In  France  and  all  the  best  of  the  Continent  it  rules  like  a 
superstition.  It  is  to  no  purpose  that  you  prove  that  the 
pay  of  petty  officials  is  smaller  than  mercantile  pay ; that 
their  work  is  more  monotonous  than  mercantile  work; 
that  their  mind  is  less  useful  and  their  life  more  tame. 
They  are  still  thought  to  be  greater  and  better.  They  are 
decoT^s ; they  have  a little  red  on  the  left  breast  of  their 
coat,  and  no  argument  will  answer  that.  In  England,  by 
the  odd  course  of  our  society,  what  a theorist  would  desire 
has  in  fact  turned  up.  The  great  offices,  whether  per- 
manent or  parliamentary,  which  require  mind  now  give 
social  prestige,  and  almost  only  those.  An  Under-Secretary 
of  State  with  £2,000  a-year  is  a much  greater  man  than 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS, 


161 


the  director  of  a finance  company  with  £5,000,  and  the 
country  saves  the  difference.  But  except  in  a few  offices 
like  the  Treasury,  which  were  once  filled  with  aristocratic 
people,  and  have  an  odour  of  nobility  at  second-hand, 
minor  place  is  of  no  social  use.  A big  grocer  despises  the 
exciseman ; and  what  in  many  countries  would  be  thought 
impossible,  the  exciseman  envies  the  grocer.  Solid  wealth 
tells  where  there  is  no  artificial  dignity  given  to  petty 
public  functions.  A clerk  in  the  public  service  is  “ no- 
body ; ” and  you  could  not  make  a common  Englishman 
see  why  he  should  be  anybody. 

But  it  must  be  owned  that  this  turning  of  society  into 
a political  expedient  has  half  spoiled  it.  A great  part  of 
the  “ best English  people  keep  their  mind  in  a state 
of  decorous  dulness.  They  maintain  their  dignity ; they 
get  obeyed ; they  are  good  and  charitable  to  their  de- 
pendants. But  they  have  no  notion  of  jplay  of  mind ; 
no  conception  that  the  charm  of  society  depends  upon  it. 
They  think  cleverness  an  antic,  and  have  a constant 
though  needless  horror  of  being  thought  to  have  any  of 
it.  So  much  does  this  stiff  dignity  give  the  tone,  that 
the  few  Englishmen  capable  of  social  brilliancy  mostly 
secrete  it.  They  reserve  it  for  persons  whom  they  can 
trust,  and  whom  they  know  to  be  capable  of  appreciating 
its  nuances.  But  a good  government  is  well  worth  a 
great  deal  of  social  dulness.  The  dignified  torpor  of 
English  society  is  inevitable  if  we  give  pre(^edence,  not 
to  the  cleverest  classes,  but  to  the  oldest  classes,  and  we 
have  seen  how  useful  that  is. 

The  social  prestige  of  the  aristocracy  is,  as  every  one 


162 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


knows,  immensely  less  than  it  was  a hundred  years  or  even 
fifty  years  since.  Two  great  movements — the  two  greatest 
of  modern  society — have  been  unfavourable  to  it.  The 
rise  of  industrial  wealth  in  countless  forms  has  brought  in 
a competitor  which  has  generally  more  mind,  and  which 
would  be  supreme  were  it  not  for  awkwardness  and  intel- 
lectual gene.  Every  day  our  companies,  our  railways, 
our  debentures,  and  our  shares,  tend  more  and  more  to 
multiply  these  surroundings  of  the  aristocracy,  and  in 
time  they  will  hide  it.  And  while  this  undergrowth  has 
come  up,  the  aristocracy  have  come  down.  They  have 
less  means  of  standing  out  than  they  used  to  have.  Their 
power  is  in  their  theatrical  exhibition,  in  their  state. 
But  society  is  every  day  becoming  less  stately.  As  our 
great  satirist  has  observed,  “ The  last  Duke  of  St.  David’s 
used  to  cover  the  north  road  with  his  carriages ; landladies 
and  waiters  bowed  before  him.  The  present  Duke  sneaks 
away  from  a railway  station,  smoking  a cigar,  in  a 
brougham.”  The  aristocracy  cannot  lead  the  old  life 
if  they  would  ; they  are  ruled  by  a stronger  power.  They 
Buflfer  from  the  tendency  of  all  modern  society  to  raise 
the  average,  and  to  lower — comparatively,  and  perhaps 
absolutely,  to  lower — the  summit.  As  the  picturesqueness, 
the  featureliness,  of  society  diminishes,  aristocracy  loses  the 
single  instrument  of  its  peculiar  power. 

If  we  remember  the  great  reverence  which  used  to  be 
paid  to  nobility  as  such,  we  shall  be  surprised  that  the 
House  of  Lords,  as  an  assembly,  has  always  been  inferior ; 
that  it  was  always  just  as  now,  not  the  first,  but  the  second 
of  our  assemblies.  I am  not,  of  course,  now  speaking  of 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


163 


the  middle  ages ; I am  not  dealing  with  the  embryo  or  the 
infant  form  of  our  Constitution ; I am  only  speaking  of 
its  adult  form.  Take  the  times  of  Sir  E.  Walpole.  lie 
was  Prime  Minister  because  he  managed  the  House  of 
Commons ; he  was  turned  out  because  he  was  beaten  on 
an  election  petition  in  that  House;  he  ruled  England 
because  he  ruled  that  House.  Yet  the  nobility  were  then 
the  governing  power  in  England.  In  many  districts  the 
word  of  some  lord  was  law.  The  ‘^wicked  Lord  Lowther,” 
as  he  was  called,  left  a name  of  terror  in  Westmoreland 
during  the  memory  of  men  now  living.  A great  part  of 
the  borough  members  and  a great  part  of  the  county 
members  were  their  nominees  ; an  obedient,  unquestioning 
deference  was  paid  them.  As  individuals  the  peers  were 
the  greatest  people ; as  a House  the  collected  peers  were 
but  the  second  House. 

Several  causes  contributed  to  create  this  anomaly,  but 
the  main  cause  was  a natural  one.  The  House  of  Peers 
has  never  been  a House  where  the  most  important  peers 
were  most  important.  It  could  not  be  so.  The  qualities 
which  fit  a man  for  marked  eminence,  in  a deliberative 
assembly,  are  not  hereditary,  and  are  not  coupled  with 
great  estates.  In  the  nation,  in  the  provinces,  in  his  own 
province,  a Duke  of  Devonshire,  or  a Duke  of  Bedford, 
was  a much  greater  man  than  Lord  Thurlow.  They  had 
great  estates,  many  boroughs,  innumerable  retainers, 
followings  like  a court.  Lord  Thurlow  had  no  boroughs,  no 
retainers  ; he  lived  on  his  salary.  Till  the  House  of  Lords 
met,  the  dukes  were  not  only  the  greatest,  but  immea- 
lurably  the  greatest.  But  as  soon  as  the  House  met,  Lord 


164 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


Thurlow  became  the  greatest.  He  could  speak,  and  the 
others  could  net  speak.  He  could  transact  business  in  half 
an  hour  which  they  could  not  have  transacted  in  a day,  or 
could  not  have  transacted  at  all.  When  some  foolish  peer, 
who  disliked  his  domination,  sneered  at  his  birth,  he  had 
words  to  meet  the  case : he  said  it  was  better  for  any  one 
to  owe  his  place  to  his  own  exertions  than  to  owe  it  to 
descent,  to  being  the  accident  of  an  accident.”  But 
such  a House  as  this  could  not  be  pleasant  to  great 
noblemen.  They  could  not  like  to  be  second  in  their  own 
assembly  (and  yet  that  was  their  position  from  age  to 
age)  to  a lawyer  who  was  of  yesterday, — whom  everybody 
could  remember  without  briefs, — who  had  talked  for 
“ hire,” — who  had  hungered  after  six-and-eightpence.” 
Great  peers  did  not  gain  glory  from  the  House ; on  the 
contrary,  they  lost  glory  when  they  were  in  the  House. 
They  devised  two  expedients  to  get  out  of  this  difficulty ; 
they  invented  proxies  which  enabled  them  to  vote  without 
being  present, — without  being  offended  by  vigour  and 
invective, — without  being  vexed  by  ridicule, — without 
leaving  the  rural  mansion  or  the  town  palace  where  they 
were  demigods.  And  what  was  more  effectual  still,  they 
used  their  influence  in  the  House  of  Commons  instead  of 
the  House  of  Lords.  In  that  indirect  manner  a rural 
potentate,  who  half  returned  two  county  members,  and 
wholly  returned  two  borough  members, — who  perhaps 
gave  seats  to  members  of  the  Government,  who  possibly 
seated  the  leader  of  the  Opposition, — became  a much 
greater  man  than  by  sitting  on  his  own  bench,  in  his  own 
House,  hearing  a chancellor  talk.  The  House  of  Lords 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


165 


was  a second-rate  force,  even  when  the  peers  were  a first- 
rate  force,  because  the  greatest  peers,  those  who  had  the 
greatest  social  importance,  did  not  care  for  their  own 
House,  or  like  it,  but  gained  great  part  of  their  political 
power  by  a hidden  but  potent  influence  in  the  competing 
House. 

When  we  cease  to  look  at  the  House  of  Lords  under  its 
dignified  aspect,  and  come  to  regard  it  under  its  strictly 
useful  aspect,  we  find  the  literary  theory  of  the  English 
Constitution  wholly  wrong,  as  usual.  This  theory  says 
that  the  House  of  Lords  is  a co-ordinate  estate  of  the 
realm,  of  equal  rank  with  the  House  of  Commons  ; that  it 
is  the  aristocratic  branch,  just  as  the  Commons  is  the 
popular  branch ; and  that  by  the  principle  of  our  Consti- 
tution the  aristocratic  branch  has  equal  authority  with 
the  popular  branch.  So  utterly  false  is  this  doctrine  that 
it  is  a remarkable  peculiarity,  a capital  excellence  of  the 
British  Constitution,  that  it  contains  a sort  of  Upper 
House,  which  is  not  of  equal  authority  to  the  Lower 
House,  yet  still  has  some  authority. 

The  evil  of  two  co-equal  Houses  of  distinct  natures  is 
obvious.  Each  House  can  stop  all  legislation,  and  yet 
some  legislation  may  be  necessary.  At  this  moment  we 
have  the  best  instance  of  this  which  could  be  conceived. 
The  Upper  House  of  our  Victorian  Constitution,  repre- 
senting the  rich  wool-growers,  has  disagreed  with  the 
Lower  Assembly,  and  most  business  is  suspended.  But 
for  a most  curious  stratagem  the  machine  of  government 
would  stand  still.  Most  constitutions  have  committed 
this  blunder.  The  two  most  remarkable  Eepuhlican 


166 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


institutions  in  tlie  world  commit  it.  In  both  the  American 
and  the  Swiss  Constitutions  the  Upper  House  has  as  much 
authority  as  the  second ; it  could  produce  the  maximum 
of  impediment — the  dead-lock,  if  it  liked  ; if  it  does  not 
do  so,  it  is  owing  not  to  the  goodness  of  the  legal  consti- 
tution, but  to  the  discreetness  of  the  members  of  the 
Chamber.  In  both  these  constitutions  this  dangerous 
division  is  defended  by  a peculiar  doctrine  with  which  I 
have  nothing  to  do  now.  It  is  said  that  there  must  be  in 
a Federal  Grovernment  some  institution,  some  authority, 
some  body  possessing  a veto  in  which  the  separate  States 
composing  the  Confederation  are  all  equal.  I confess  this 
doctrine  has  to  me  no  self-evidence,  and  it  is  assumed, 
but  not  proved.  The  State  of  Delaware  is  not  equal  in 
power  or  influence  to  the  State  of  New  York,  and  you 
cannot  make  it  so  by  giving  it  an  equal  veto  in  an  Upper 
Chamber.  The  history  of  such  an  institution  is  indeed 
most  natural.  A little  State  will  like,  and  must  like,  to 
see  some  token,  some  memorial  mark  of  its  old  inde- 
pendence preserved  in  the  Constitution  by  which  that 
independence  is  extinguished.  But  it  is  one  thing  for  an 
institution  to  be  natural,  and  another  for  it  to  be  expe- 
dient. If  indeed  it  be  that  a Federal  Grovernment  compels 
the  erection  of  an  Upper  Chamber  of  conclusive  and  co- 
ordinate authority,  it  is  one  more  in  addition  to  the  many 
other  inherent  defects  of  that  kind  of  government.  It 
may  be  necessary  to  have  the  blemish,  but  it  is  a blemish 
just  as  much. 

There  ought  to  be  in  every  Constitution  an  available 
authority  somewhere.  The  sovereign  power  must  be 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


167 


eome-at-able.  And  the  English  have  made  it  so.  The 
House  of  Lords,  at  the  passing  of  the  Reform  Act  of  1832, 
was  as  unwilling  to  concur  with  the  House  of  Commons  as 
the  Upper  Chamber  at  Victoria  to  concur  with  the  Lower 
Chamber.  But  it  did  concur.  The  Crown  has  the  autho- 
rity to  create  new  peers  ; and  the  king  of  the  day  had 
promised  the  ministry  of  the  day  to  create  them.  The 
House  of  Lords  did  not  like  the  precedent,  and  they  passed 
the  Bill.  The  power  was  not  used,  but  its  existence  was 
as  useful  as  its  energy.  Just  as  the  knowledge  that  his 
men  can  strike  makes  a master  yield  in  order  that  they 
may  not  strike,  so  the  knowledge  that  their  House  could 
be  swamped  at  the  will  of  the  king — at  the  will  of  the 
people — made  the  Lords  yield  to  the  people. 

From  the  Reform  Act  the  function  of  the  House  of 
Lords  has  been  altered  in  English  history.  Before  that 
Act  it  was,  if  not  a directing  Chamber,  at  least  a Chamber 
of  Directors.  The  leading  nobles,  who  had  most  influence 
in  the  Commons,  and  swayed  the  Commons,  sat  there. 
Aristocratic  influence  was  so  powerful  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  that  there  never  was  any  serious  breach  of 
unity.  When  the  Houses  quarrelled,  it  was,  as  in  the 
great  Aylesbury  case,  about  their  respective  privileges, 
and  not  about  the  national  policy.  The  influence  of  the 
nobility  was  then  so  potent,  that  it  was  not  necessary  to 
exert  it.  The  English  Constitution,  though  then  on  this 
point  very  different  from  what  it  now  is,  did  not  even  then 
contain  the  blunder  of  the  Victorian  or  of  the  Swiss 
Constitution.  It  liad  not  two  Houses  of  distinct  origin  , 
it  had  two  Houses  of  common  origin — two  Houses  in 


168 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


which  the  predominant  element  was  the  same.  The 
danger  of  discordance  was  obviated  by  a latent  imity. 

Since  the  Eeform  Act  the  House  of  Lords  has  become  a 
revising  and  suspending  House.  It  can  alter  Bills ; it  can 
reject  Bills  on  which  the  House  of  Commons  is  not  yet 
thoroughly  in  earnest — upon  which  the  nation  is  not  yet 
determined.  Their  veto  is  a sort  of  hypothetical  veto. 
They  say.  We  reject  your  Bill  for  this  once,  or  these  twice, 
or  even  these  thrice  ; but  if  you  keep  on  sending  it  up,  at 
last  we  won’t  reject  it.  The  House  has  ceased  to  be  one 
of  latent  directors,  and  has  become  one  of  temporary 
rejectors  and  palpable  alterers. 

It  is  the  sole  claim  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington  to  the 
name  of  a statesman  that  he  presided  over  this  change. 
He  wished  to  guide  the  Lords  to  their  true  position,  and 
he  did  guide  them.  In  1846,  in  the  crisis  of  the  Corn- 
Law  struggle,  and  when  it  was  a question  whether  the 
House  of  Lords  should  resist  or  yield,  he  wrote  a very 
curious  letter  to  the  late  Lord  Derby : — 

‘^For  many  years,  indeed  from  the  year  1830,  when  I 
/retired  from  ofiBce,  I have  endeavoured  to  manage  the 
House  of  Lords  upon  the  principle  on  which  I conceive 
that  the  institution  exists  in  the  Constitution  of  the 
country,  that  of  Conservatism.  I have  invariably  objected 
to  all  violent  and  extreme  measures,  which  is  not  exactly 
the  mode  of  acquiring  influence  in  a political  party  in 
England,  particularly  one  in  opposition  to  Grovemment. 
[ have  invariably  supported  Government  in  Parliament 
upon  important  occasions,  and  have  always  exercised  ray 
personal  influence  to  prevent  the  mischief  of  anything  like 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


169 


a difference  or  division  between  tbe  two  Houses, — of  which 
there  are  some  remarkable  instances,  to  which  I will 
advert  here,  as  they  will  tend  to  show  you  the  nature  of 
my  management,  and  possibly,  in  some  degree,  account  for 
the  extraordinary  power  which  I have  for  so  many  years 
exercised,  without  any  apparent  claim  to  it. 

Upon  finding  the  difificulties  in  which  the  late  King 
William  was  involved  by  a promise  made  to  create  peers, 
the  number,  I believe,  indefinite,  I determined  myself, 
and  I prevailed  upon  others,  the  number  very  large,  to 
be  absent  from  the  House  in  the  discussion  of  the  last 
stages  of  the  Eeform  Bill,  after  the  negotiations  had 
failed  for  the  formation  of  a new  Administration.  This 
course  gave  at  the  time  great  dissatisfaction  to  the  party ; 
notwithstanding  that  I believe  it  saved  the  existence  of 
the  House  of  Lords  at  the  time  and  the  Constitution  of 
the  country. 

^^Subsequently,  throughout  the  period  from  1835  to 
1841, 1 prevailed  upon  the  House  of  Lords  to  depart  from 
many  principles  and  systems  which  they  as  well  as  I had 
adopted  and  voted  on  Irish  tithes,  Irish  corporations,  and 
other  measures,  much  to  the  vexation  and  annoyance  of 
many.  But  I recollect  one  particular  measure,  the  union 
of  the  provinces  of  Upper  and  Lower  Canada,  in  the  early 
stages  of  which  I had  spoken  in  opposition  to  the  mea- 
sure, and  had  protested  against  it ; and  in  the  last  stages 
of  it  I prevailed  upon  the  House  to  agree  to,  and  pass  it, 
in  order  to  avoid  the  injury  to  the  public  interests  of  a 
dispute  between  the  Houses  upon  a question  of  such  im- 
portance. Then  I supported  the  measures  of  the  Govern- 
12 


L70 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


meiit,  and  protected  the  servant  of  the  Grovernment,  Captain 
Elliot,  in  China.  All  of  which  tended  to  weaken  my  in- 
fluence with  some  of  the  party ; others,  possibly  a majority, 
might  have  approved  of  the  course  which  I took.  It  was 
at  the  same  time  well  known  that,  from  the  commence- 
ment at  least  of  Lord  Melbourne’s  Grovernment,  I was  in 
constant  communication  with  it,  upon  all  military  matters, 
whether  occurring  at  home  or  abroad,  at  all  events.  But 
likewise  upon  many  others. 

All  this  tended,  of  course,  to  diminish  my  influence  in 
the  Conservative  party,  while  it  tended  essentially  to  the 
ease  and  satisfaction  of  the  Sovereign,  and  to  the  main- 
tenance of  good  order.  At  length  came  the  resignation  of 
the  Government  by  Sir  Eobert  Peel,  in  the  month  of 
December  last,  and  the  Queen  desiring  Lord  John  Eussell 
to  form  an  Administration.  On  the  12th  of  December 
the  Queen  wrote  to  me  the  letter  of  which  I enclose  the 
copy,  and  the  copy  of  my  answer  of  the  same  date ; of 
which  it  appears  that  you  have  never  seen  copies,  although 
I communicated  them  immediately  to  Sir  Eobert  Peel.  It 
was  impossible  for  me  to  act  otherwise  than  is  indicated 
in  my  letter  to  the  Queen.  I am  the  servant  of  the  Crown 
and  people.  I have  been  paid  and  rewarded,  and  I con- 
sider myself  retained ; and  that  I can’t  do  otherwise  than 
serve  as  required,  when  I can  do  so  without  dishonour, 
that  is  to  say,  as  long  as  I have  health  and  strength  to 
enable  me  to  serve.  But  it  is  obvious  that  there  is,  and 
there  must  be,  an  end  of  all  connection  and  counsel  be- 
tween party  and  me.  I might  with  consistency,  and  some 
may  think  that  I ought  to,  have  declined  to  belong  to  Sir 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


171 


Robert  Peel’s  Cabinet  on  the  night  of  the  20th  of  Decem- 
ber. But  my  opinion  is,  that  if  I had,  Sir  Robert  Peel’s 
G overnment  would  not  have  been  framed ; that  we  should 
have  had and in  office  next  morning. 

“ But,  at  all  events,  it  is  quite  obvious  that  when  that 
arrangement  comes,  which  sooner  or  later  must  come, 
there  will  be  an  end  to  all  influence  on  my  part  over  the 
Conservative  party,  if  I should  be  so  indiscreet  as  to  attempt 
to  exercise  any.  You  will  see,  therefore,  that  the  stage 
is  quite  clear  for  you,  and  that  you  need  not  apprehend 
the  consequences  of  differing  in  opinion  from  me  when 
you  will  enter  upon  it ; as  in  truth  I have,  by  my  letter 
to  the  Queen  of  the  12th  of  December,  put  an  end  to  the 
connection  between  the  party  and  me,  when  the  party  will 
be  in  opposition  to  her  Majesty’s  Government. 

‘^My  opinion  is,  that  the  great  object  of  all  is  that  you 
should  assume  the  station,  and  exercise  the  influence,  which 
I have  so  long  exercised  in  the  House  of  Lords.  The  ques- 
tion is,  how  is  that  object  to  be  attained?  By  guiding 
their  opinion  and  decision,  or  by  following  it  ? You  will 
see  that  I have  endeavoured  to  guide  their  opinion,  and 
have  succeeded  upon  some  most  remarkable  occasions. 
But  it  has  been  by  a good  deal  of  management. 

Upon  the  important  occasion  and  question  now  before 
the  House,  I propose  to  endeavour  to  induce  them  to  avoid 
to  involve  the  country  in  the  additional  difficulties  of  a 
difference  of  opinion,  possibly  a dispute  between  the  Houses, 
on  a question  in  the  decision  of  which  it  has  been  fre- 
quently asserted  that  their  lordships  had  a personal  inte- 
rest ; which  assertion,  however  false  as  affecting  each  of 


l72 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


them  personally,  could  not  be  denied  as  affecting  the  pro- 
prietors of  land  in  general.  I am  aware  of  the  difficulty, 
but  I don’t  despair  of  carrying  the  Bill  through.  You 
must  be  the  best  judge  of  the  course  which  you  ought  to 
take,  and  of  the  course  most  likely  to  conciliate  the  con- 
fidence of  the  House  of  Lords.  My  opinion  is,  that  you 
should  advise  the  House  to  vote  that  which  would  tend 
most  to  public  order,  and  would  be  most  beneficial  to  the 
immediate  interests  of  the  country.” 

This  is  the  mode  in  which  the  House  of  Lords  came  to 
be  what  it  now  is,  a chamber  with  (in  most  cases)  a veto 
of  delay,  with  (in  most  cases)  a power  of  revision,  but  with 
no  other  rights  or  powers.  The  question  we  have  to  answer 
is,  “ The  House  of  Lords  being  such,  what  is  the  use  of 
the  Lords  ? ” 

The  common  notion  evidently  fails,  that  it  is  a bulwark 
against  imminent  revolution.  As  the  Duke’s  letter  in  every 
line  evinces,  the  wisest  members,  the  guiding  members  of 
the  House,  know  that  the  House  must  yield  to  the  people  if 
the  people  is  determined.  The  two  cases — that  of  the  Ee- 
form  Act  and  the  Corn  Laws — were  decisive  cases.  The 
great  majority  of  the  Lords  thought  Eeform  revolution. 
Free-trade  confiscation,  and  the  two  together  ruin.  If  they 
could  ever  have  been  trusted  to  resist  the  people,  they 
would  then  have  resisted  it.  But  in  truth  it  is  idle  to 
expect  a second  chamber — a chamber  of  notables — ever  to 
resist  a popular  chamber,  a nation’s  chamber,  when  that 
chamber  is  vehement  and  the  nation  vehement  too.  There 
is  no  strength  in  it  for  that  purpose.  Every  class  cham- 
ber, every  minority  chamber,  so  to  speak,  feels  weak  and 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


173 


helpless  wten  the  nation  is  excited.  In  a time  of  revolu- 
tion there  are  but  two  powers,  the  sword  and  the  people. 
The  executive  commands  the  sword;  the  great  lesson 
which  the  First  Napoleon  taught  the  Parisian  populace — 
the  contribution  he  made  to  the  theory  of  revolutions  at 
the  18th  Brumaire — is  now  well  known.  Any  strong 
soldier  at  the  head  of  the  army  can  use  the  army.  But 
a second  chamber  cannot  use  it.  It  is  a pacific  assembly, 
composed  of  timid  peers,  aged  lawyers,  or,  as  abroad, 
clever  litterateurs.  Such  a body  has  no  force  to  put 
down  the  nation,  and  if  the  nation  will  have  it  do  some- 
thing it  must  do  it. 

The  very  nature,  too,  as  has  been  seen,  of  the  Lords  in 
the  English  Constitution,  shows  that  it  cannot  stop  revo- 
lution. The  constitution  contains  an  exceptional  provi- 
sion to  prevent  its  stopping  it.  The  executive,  the 
appointee  of  the  popular  chamber  and  the  nation,  can 
make  new  peers,  and  so  create  a majority  in  the  peers; 
it  can  say  to  the  Lords,  Use  the  powers  of  your  House 
as  we  like,  or  you  shall  not  use  them  at  all.  We  will 
find  others  to  use  them ; your  virtue  shall  go  out  of  you 
if  it  is  not  used  as  we  like,  and  stopped  when  we 
please.”  An  assembly  under  such  a threat  cannot  arrest, 
and  could  not  be  intended  to  arrest,  a determined  and 
insisting  executive. 

In  fact  the  House  of  Lords,  as  a House,  is  not  a bul- 
wark that  will  keep  out  revolution,  but  an  index  that  re- 
volution is  unlikely.  Besting  as  it  does  upon  old  defer- 
ence, and  inveterate  homage,  it  shows  that  the  spasm  of 
new  forces,  the  outbreak  of  new  agencies,  which  we  call 


174 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


revolution,  is  for  the  time  simply  impossible.  So  long  as  ^ 
many  old  leaves  linger  on  the  November  trees,  you  know 
that  there  has  been  little  frost  and  no  wind  : just  so  while 
the  House  of  Lords  retains  much  power,  you  may  know 
that  there  is  no  desperate  discontent  in  the  country,  no 
wild  agency  likely  to  cause  a great  demolition. 

There  used  to  be  a singular  idea  that  two  chambers — a 
revising  chamber  and  a suggesting  chamber — were  essen- 
tial to  a free  government.  The  first  person  who  threw 
a hard  stone — an  effectually  hitting  stone — against  the 
theory  was  one  very  little  likely  to  be  favourable  to  demo- 
cratic influence,  or  to  be  blind  to  the  use  of  aristocracy ; 
it  was  the  present  Lord  Grrey.  He  had  to  look  at  the 
matter  practically.  He  was  the  first  great  colonial 
minister  of  England  who  ever  set  himself  to  introduce 
representative  institutions  into  all  her  capable  colonies,  and 
the  difficulty  stared  him  in  the  face  that  in  those  colonies 
there  were  hardly  enough  good  people  for  one  assembly, 
and  not  near  enough  good  people  for  two  assemblies.  It 
happened — and  most  naturally  happened — that  a second 
assembly  was  mischievous.  The  second  assembly  was 
either  the  nominee  of  the  Crown,  which  in  such  places 
naturally  allied  itself  with  better  instructed  minds,  or  was 
elected  by  people  with  a higher  property  qualification — 
some  peculiarly  well-judging  people.  Both  these  choosers 
choose  the  best  men  in  the  colony,  and  put  them  into  the 
second  assembly.  But  thus  the  popular  assembly  was  left 
without  those  best  men.  The  popular  assembly  was  de- 
nuded of  those  guides  and  those  leaders  who  would  Jiave 
led  and  guided  it  best.  Those  superior  men  were  put 


THE  HOUSE  OP  LORDS. 


175 


aside  to  talk  to  one  another,  and  perhaps  dispute  with 
one  another ; they  were  a concentrated  instance  of  high 
but  neutralised  forces.  They  wished  to  do  good,  but  they 
could  do  nothing.  The  Lower  House,  with  all  the  best 
people  in  the  colony  extracted,  did  what  it  liked.  The 
democracy  was  strengthened  rather  than  weakened  by  the 
isolation  of  its  best  opponents  in  a weak  position.  As  ^ ^ 
soon  as  experience  had  shown  this,  or  seemed  to  show  it,  ; ^ 

the  theory  that  two  chambers  were  essential  to  a good  and 
free  government  vanished  away. 

With  a perfect  Lower  House  it  is  certain  that  an  Upper 
House  would  be  scarcely  of  any  value.  If  we  had  an  ideal 
House  of  Commons  perfectly  representing  the  nation, 
always  moderate,  never  passionate,  abounding  in  men  of 
leisure,  never  omitting  the  slow  and  steady  forms  neces- 
sary for  good  consideration,  it  is  certain  that  we  should 
not  need  a higher  chamber.  The  work  would  be  done  so 
well  that  we  should  not  want  any  one  to  look  over  or 
revise  it.  And  whatever  is  unnecessary  in  government 
is  pernicious.  Human  life  makes  so  much  complexity 
necessary  that  an  artificial  addition  is  sure  to  do  harm : 
you  cannot  tell  where  the  needless  bit  of  machinery  will 
catch  and  clog  the  hundred  needful  wheels;  but  the 
chances  are  conclusive  that  it  will  impede  them  some- 
where,  so  nice  are  they  and  so  delicate.  But  though 
beside  an  ideal  House  of  Commons  the  Lords  would  be 
unnecessary,  and  therefore  pernicious,  beside  the  actual 
House  a revising  and  leisured  legislature  is  extremely 
useful,  if  not  quite  necessary. 

At  present  the  chance  majorities  on  minor  questions  in 


176 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


the  House  of  Commons  are  subject  to  no  effectual  control 
The  nation  never  attends  to  any  but  the  principal  matters 
of  policy  and  state.  Upon  these  it  forms  that  rude, 
rough,  ruling  judgment  which  we  call  public  opinion; 
but  upon  other  things  it  does  not  think  at  all,  and  it 
would  be  useless  for  it  to  think.  It  has  not  the  materials 
for  forming  a judgment:  the  detail  of  Bills,  the  instru- 
mental part  of  policy,  the  latent  part  of  legislation,  are 
wholly  out  of  its  way.  It  knows  nothing  about  them,  and 
could  not  find  time  or  labour  for  the  careful  investigation 
by  which  alone  they  can  be  apprehended.  A casual 
majority  of  the  House  of  Commons  has  therefore  domi- 
nant power:  it  can  legislate  as  it  wishes.  And  though 
the  whole  House  of  Commons  upon  great  subjects  very 
fairly  represents  public  opinion,  and  though  its  judgment 
upon  minor  questions  is,  from  some  secret  excellencies  in 
its  composition,  remarkably  sound  and  good  ; yet,  like  all 
similar  assemblies,  it  is  subject  to  the  sudden  action  of 
selfish  combinations.  There  are  said  to  be  two  hundred 
‘‘  members  for  the  railways  ” in  the  present  Parliament. 
If  these  two  hundred  choose  to  combine  on  a point  which 
the  public  does  not  care  for,  and  which  they  care  for 
because  it  affects  their  purse,  they  are  absolute.  A 
formidable  sinister  interest  may  always  obtain  the  com- 
plete command  of  a dominant  assembly  by  some  chance 
and  for  a moment,  and  it  is  therefore  of  great  use  to 
have  a second  chamber  of  an  opposite  sort,  differently 
, composed,  in  which  that  interest  in  all  likelihood  will 
Vaot  rule. 

The  most  dangerous  of  all  sinister  interests  is  that  of 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LOKDS. 


177 


fche  executive  Government,  because  it  is  the  most  power 
fuh  It  is  perfectly  possible — it  has  happened,  and  will  / 
happen  again — that  the  Cabinet,  being  very  powerful  in 
the  Commons,  may  inflict  minor  measures  on  the  nation 
which  the  nation  did  not  like,  but  which  it  did  not 
understand  enough  to  forbid.  If,  therefore,  a tribunal 
of  revision  can  be  found  in  which  the  executive,  though 
powerful,  is  less  powerful,  the  government  will  be  the 
better ; the  retarding  chamber  will  impede  minor  in- 
stances of  parliamentary  tyranny,  though  it  will  notj 
prevent  or  much  impede  revolution. 

Every  large  assembly  is,  moreover,  a fluctuating  body  ; 

It  is  not  one  house,  so  to  say,  but  a set  of  houses ; it  is 
one  set  of  men  to-night  and  another  to-morrow  night.  A 
certain  unity  is  doubtless  preserved  by  the  duty  which 
the  executive  is  supposed  to  undertake,  and  does  under- 
take, of  keeping  a house ; a constant  element  is  so  pro- 
vided about  which  all  sorts  of  variables  accumulate  and 
pass  away.  But  even  after  due  allowance  for  the  full 
weight  of  this  protective  machinery,  our  House  of  Com- 
mons is,  as  all  such  chambers  must  be,  subject  to  sudden 
turns  and  bursts  of  feeling,  because  the  members  who 
compose  it  change  from  time  to  time.  The  pernicious 
result  is  perpetual  in  our  legislation  ; many  acts  of  Par- 
liament are  medleys  of  different  motives,  because  the 
majority  which  passed  one  set  of  its  clauses  is  different 
from  that  which  passed  another  set. 

But  the  greatest  defect  of  the  House  of  Commons  is 
that  it  has  no  leisure.  The  life  of  the  House  is  the  worst 
of  all  lives — a life  of  distracting  routine.  It  has  an  amount 


178 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


of  business  brought  before  it  such  as  no  similar  assemblj^ 
ever  has  had.  The  British  empire  is  a miscellaneous 
aggregate,  and  each  bit  of  the  aggregate  brings  its  bit  of 
business  to  the  House  of  Commons.  It  is  India  one  day 
and  Jamaica  the  next:  then  again  China,  and  then 
Sleswig-Holstein.  Our  legislation  touches  on  all  subjects, 
because  our  country  contains  all  ingredients.  The  mere 
questions  which  are  asked  of  the  ministers  run  over  half 
human  affairs ; the  Private  Bill  Acts,  the  mere  pHvilegia 
of  our  Grovernment — subordinate  as  they  ought  to  be — 
probably  give  the  House  of  Commons  more  absolute  work 
than  the  whole  business,  both  national  and  private,  of  any 
other  assembly  which  has  ever  sat.  The  whole  scene  is 
so  encumbered  with  changing  business,  that  it  is  hard  to 
keep  your  head  in  it. 

Whatever,  too,  may  be  the  case  hereafter,  when  a better 
system  has  been  struck  out,  at  present  the  House  does  all 
the  work  of  legislation,  all  the  detail,  and  all  the  clauses 
itself.  One  of  the  most  helpless  exhibitions  of  helpless 
ingenuity  and  wasted  mind  is  a committee  of  the  whole 
House  on  a Bill  of  many  clauses  which  eager  enemies  are 
trying  to  spoil,  and  various  friends  are  trying  to  mend. 
An  Act  of  Parliament  is  at  least  as  complex  as  a marriage 
settlement ; and  it  is  made  much  as  a settlement  would 
be  if  it  were  left  to  the  vote  and  settled  by  the  major 
part  of  persons  concerned,  including  the  unborn  children. 
There  is  an  advocate  for  every  interest,  and  every  interest 
clamours  for  every  advantage.  The  executive  Govern- 
ment by  means  of  its  disciplined  forces,  and  the  few 
invaluable  members  who  sit  and  think,  preserves  some  sort 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


179 


of  unity.  But  the  result  is  very  imperfect.  The  best 
test  of  a machine  is  the  work  it  turns  out.  Let  anj  one 
who  knows  what  legal  documents  ought  to  be,  read  first  a 
mil  he  has  just  been  making  and  then  an  Act  of  Parlia- 
ment ; he  will  certainly  say,  “ I would  have  dismissed  my 
attorney  if  he  had  done  my  business  as  the  legislature  has 
done  the  nation’s  business.”  While  the  House  of  Commons 
is  what  it  is,  a good  revising,  regulating,  and  retarding  Sy 
House  would  be  a benefit  of  great  magnitude. 

But  is  the  House  of  Lords  such  a chamber  ? Does  it 
do  this  work  ? This  is  almost  an  undiscussed  question.  j 
The  House  of  Lords,  for  thirty  years  at  least,  has  been  in 
popular  discussion  an  accepted  matter.  Popular  passion 
has  not  crossed  the  path,  and  no  vivid  imagination  has 
been  excited  to  clear  the  matter  up. 

The  House  of  Lords  has  the  greatest  merit  which  such 
a chamber  can  have ; it  is  possible.  It  is  incredibly  diffi- 
cult to  get  a revising  assembly,  because  it  is  difficult  to 
find  a class  of  respected  revisers.  A federal  senate,  a 
second  House,  which  represents  State  Unity,  has  this 
advantage ; it  embodies  a feeling  at  the  root  of  society 
— a feeling  which  is  older  than  complicated  politics, 
which  is  stronger  a thousand  times  over  than  com- 
mon political  feelings — the  local  feeling.  My  shirt,” 
said  the  Swiss  state-right  patriot,  is  dearer  to  me  than 
my  coat.”  Every  State  in  the  American  Union  would  feel 
that  disrespect  to  the  Senate  was  disrespect  to  itself. 
Accordingly,  the  Senate  is  respected : whatever  may  be 
the  merits  or  demerits  of  its  action,  it  can  act ; it  is  real, 
independent,  and  efficient.  But  in  common  governments 


180 


THE  E]S"GLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


it  is  fatally  difficult  to  make  an  u?ipopular  entity  power* 
ful  in  a popular  government. 

It  is  almost  the  same  thing  to  say  that  the  House  of 
Lords  is  independent.  It  would  not  be  powerful,  it  would 
not  be  possible,  unless  it  were  known  to  be  independent. 
The  Lords  are  in  several  respects  more  independent  than 
the  Commons ; their  judgment  may  not  be  so  good  a 
judgment,  but  it  is  emphatically  their  own  judgment. 
The  House  of  Lords,  as  a body,  is  accessible  to  no  social 
bribe.  And  this,  in  our  day,  is  no  light  matter.  Many 
members  of  the  House  of  Commons,  who  are  to  be  influ- 
enced by  no  other  manner  of  corruption,  are  much  in- 
fluenced by  this  its  most  insidious  sort.  The  conductors  of 
the  press  and  the  writers  for  it  are  worse — at  least  the 
more  influential  who  come  near  the  temptation;  for 
position,”  as  they  call  it,  for  a certain  intimacy  with  the 
aristocracy,  some  of  them  would  do  almost  anything  and 
say  almost  anything.  But  the  Lords  are  those  who  give 
social  bribes,  and  not  those  who  take  them.  They  are 
above  corruption  because  they  are  the  corrupters.  They 
have  no  constituency  to  fear  or  wheedle  ; they  have  the 
best  means  of  forming  a disinterested  and  cool  judgment 
of  any  class  in  the  country.  They  have,  too,  leisure  to 
form  it.  They  have  no  occupations  to  distract  them 
which  are  worth  the  name.  Field  sports  are  but  play- 
things, though  some  Lords  put  an  Englishman’s  serious- 
ness into  them.  Few  Englishmen  can  bury  themselves  in 
science  or  literature ; and  the  aristocracy  liave  less,  per- 
haps, of  that  impetus  than  the  middle  classes.  Society  is 
too  correct  and  dull  to  be  an  occupation,  as  in  other  times 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


181 


find  ages  it  has  been.  The  aristociacy  live  in  the  fear  of 
the  middle  classes — of  the  grocer  and  the  merchant.  They 
dare  not  frame  a society  of  enjoyment  as  the  French  aris* 
tocracy  once  formed  it.  Politics  are  the  only  occupation 
a peer  has  worth  the  name.  He  may  pursue  them  undis- 
tractedly.  The  House  of  Lords,  besides  independence  to  ^ 
revise  judicially  and  position  to  revise  effectually,  has 
leisure  to  revise  intellectually. 

These  are  great  merits ; and,  considering  how  difficult 
it  is  to  get  a good  second  chamber,  and  how  much  with 
our  present  first  chamber  we  need  a second,  we  may  well 
be  thankful  for  them.  But  we  muat  not  permit  them  to 
blind  our  eyes.  Those  merits  of  the  Lords  have  faults 
close  beside  them  which  go  far  to  make  them  useless. 
With  its  wealth,  its  place,  and  its  leisure,  the  House  of 
Lords  would,  on  the  very  surface  of  the  matter,  rule  us  far 
more  than  it  does  if  it  had  not  secret  defects  which  hamper 
and  weaken  it. 

The  first  of  these  defects  is  hardly  to  be  called  secret, 
though,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  not  well  known.  A severe 
though  not  unfriendly  critic  of  our  institutions  said  that 
“ the  cure  for  admiring  the  House  of  Lords  was  to  go  and 
look  at  it” — to  look  at  it  not  on  a great  party  field-day,  or 
at  a time  of  parade,  but  in  the  ordinary  transaction  of 
business.  There  are  perhaps  ten  peers  in  the  House,  pos- 
sibly only  six;  three  is  the  quorum  for  transacting  business. 
A few  more  may  dawdle  in  or  not  dawdle  in ; those  are 
the  principal  speakers,  the  lawyers  (a  few  years  ago  when 
■ Lyndhurst,  Brougham,  and  Campbell  were  in  vigour,  they 
were  by  far  the  predominant  talkers)  and  a few  statesmen 


182 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


whom  everyone  knows.  But  the  mass  of  the  House  is 
nothing.  This  is  why  orators  trained  in  the  Commons 
detest  to  speak  in  the  Lords.  Lord  Chatham  used  to  call 
it  the  “ Tapestry.”  The  House  of  Commons  is  a scene  of 
life  if  ever  there  was  a scene  of  life.  Every  member  in  the 
throng,  every  atom  in  the  medley,  has  his  own  objects 
(good  or  bad),  his  own  purposes  (great  or  petty) ; his  own 
notions,  such  as  they  are,  of  what  is;  his  own  notions, 
such  as  they  are,  of  what  ought  to  be.  There  is 
a motley  confluence  of  vigorous  elements,  but  the  result  is 
one  and  good.  There  is  a feeling  of  the  House,”  a sense” 
of  the  House,  and  no  one  who  knows  anything  of  it  can 
despise  it.  A very  shrewd  man  of  the  world  went  so  far 
as  to  say  that  “ the  House  of  Commons  has  more  sense 
than  any  one  in  it.”  But  there  is  no  such  “ sense  ” in  the 
! House  of  Lords,  because  there  is  no  life.  The  Lower 
i Chamber  is  a chamber  of  eager  politicians ; the  Upper  (to 
say  the  least)  of  not  eager  ones. 

This  apathy  is  not,  indeed,  as  great  as  the  outside  show 
would  indicate.  The  committees  of  the  Lords  (as  is  well 
known)  do  a great  deal  of  work,  and  do  it  very  well.  And 
such  as  it  is,  the  apathy  is  very  natural.  A House  com- 
posed of  rich  men  who  can  vote  by  proxy  without  coming 
will  not  come  very  much.*  But  after  every  abatement  the 
real  indiSerence  to  their  duties  of  most  peers  is  a great 
defect,  and  the  apparent  indifference  is  a dangerous  defect. 
As  far  as  politics  go  there  is  profound  truth  in  Lord 
Chesterfield’s  axiom,  that  “ the  world  must  judge  of  you  by 

* In  accordance  with  a recent  resolution  of  the  House  of  Lords,  proxfei 
sre  now  disused.  Note  to  second  edition. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LOKDS. 


183 


what  you  seem,  not  by  what  you  are,”  The  world  knows 
what  you  seem  ; it  does  not  know  what  you  are.  An 
assembly — a revising  assembly  especially — which  does  not 
assemble,  which  looks  as  if  it  does  not  care  how  it  revises, 
is  defective  in  a main  political  ingredient.  It  may  be  of 
use,  but  it  will  hardly  convince  mankind  that  it  is  so. 

The  next  defect  is  even  more  serious;  it  affects  not 
simply  the  apparent  work  of  the  House  of  Lords  but  the 
real  work.  For  a revising  legislature,  it  is^oo  uniformly 
made  up.  Errors  are  of  various  kinds ; but  the  constitu- 
tion of  the  House  of  Lords  only  guards  against  a single 
error — that  of  too  quick  change.  The  Lords — leaving  out 
a few  lawyers  and  a few  outcasts — are  all  landowners  of 
more  or  less  wealth.  They  all  have  more  or  less  the  opi- , 
nions,  the  merits,  the  faults  of  that  one  class.  They  revise 
legislation,  as  far  as  they  do  revise  it,  exclusively  according 
to  the  supposed  interests,  the  predominant  feelings,  the/ 
inherited  opinions,  of  that  class.  Since  the  Eeform  Act, 
this  uniformity  of  tendency  has  been  very  evident.  The 
Lords  have  felt — it  would  be  harsh  to  say  hostile,  but  still 
dubious,  as  to  the  new  legislation.  There  was  a spirit  in 
it  alien  to  their  spirit,  and  which  when  they  could  they 
have  tried  to  cast  out.  That  spirit  is  what  has  been  termed 
the  ‘‘modern  spirit.”  It  is  not  easy  lo  concentrate  its 
essence  in  a phrase : it  lives  in  our  life,  animates  our 
actions,  suggests  our  thoughts.  We  all  know  what  it 
means,  though  it  would  take  an  essay  to  limit  it  and 
define  it.  To  this  the  Lords  object ; wherever  it  is  con- 
cerned, they  are  not  impartial  revisers,  but  biassed  revisers. 

This  singleness  of  composition  would  be  no  fault,  it 


184 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


would  be,  or  might  be,  even  a merit,  if  the  criticism  of 
the  House  of  Lords,  though  a suspicious  criticism,  were 
yet  a criticism  of  great  understanding.  The  characteristic 
legislation  of  every  age  must  have  characteristic  defects  ; 
it  is  the  outcome  of  a character,  of  necessity  faulty 
and  limited.  It  must  mistake  some  kind  of  things ; it 
must  overlook  some  other.  If  we  could  get  hold  of  a com- 
plemental  critic,  a critic  who  saw  what  the  age  did  not 
see,  and  who  saw  rightly  what  the  age  mistook,  we  should 
have  a critic  of  inestimable  value.  But  is  the  House  of 
Lords  that  critic  ? Can  it  be  said  that  its  unfriendliness 
to  the  legislation  of  the  age  is  founded  on  a perception  of 
what  the  age  does  not  see,  and  a rectified  perception  of 
what  the  age  does  see  ? The  most  extreme  partisan,  the 
most  warm  admirer  of  the  Lords,  if  of  fair  and  tempered 
mind,  cannot  say  so.  The  evidence  is  too  strong.  On 
free  trade,  for  example,  no  one  can  doubt  that  the  Lords 
— in  opinion,  in  what  they  wished  to  do,  and  would  have 
done,  if  they  had  acted  on  their  own  minds — were  utterly 
wrong.  This  is  the  clearest  test  of  the'  modern  spirit.’’ 
It  is  easier  here  to  be  sure  it  is  right  than  elsewhere. 
Commerce  is  like  war ; its  result  is  patent.  Do  you  make 
money  or  do  you  not  make  it  ? There  is  as  little  appeal 
from  figures  as  from  battle.  Now  no  one  can  doubt  that 
England  is  a great  deal  better  off  because  of  free  trade ; 
that  it  has  more  money,  and  that  its  money  is  diffused 
more  as  we  should  wish  it  diffused.  In  the  one  case  in 
which  we  can  unanswerably  test  the  modem  spirit,  it  was 
right,  and  the  dubious  Upper  House — the  House  which 
would  have  rejected  it,  if  possible — was  wrong. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LOEDS. 


185 


There  is  another  reason.  The  House  of  Lords,  being 
an  hereditary  chamber,  cannot  be  of  more  than  common 
ability.  It  may  contain — it  almost  always  has  contained, 
it  almost  always  will  contain — extraordinary  men.  But 
its  average  born  law-makers  cannot  be  extraordinary. 
Being  a set  of  eldest  sons  picked  out  by  chance  and 
history,  it  cannot  be  very  wise.  It  would  be  a standing 
miracle  if  such  a chamber  possessed  a knowledge  of  its 
age  superior  to  the  other  men  of  the  age ; if  it  possessed 
a superior  and  supplemental  knowledge ; if  it  descried  what 
they  did  not  discern,  and  saw  truly  that  which  they  saw, 
indeed,  but  saw  untruly. 

The  difficulty  goes  deeper.  The  task  of  revising,  of 
adequately  revising  the  legislation  of  this  age,  is  not  only 
that  which  an  aristocracy  has  no  facility  in  doing,  but  one 
which  it  has  a difficulty  in  doing.  Look  at  the  statute 
book  for  1865 — the  statutes  at  large  for  the  year.  You 
will  find,  not  pieces  of  literature,  not  nice  and  subtle 
matters,  but  coarse  matters,  crude  heaps  of  heavy  busi- 
ness. They  deal  with  trade,  with  finance,  with  statute 
law  reform,  with  common  law  reform ; they  deal  with 
various  sorts  of  business,  but  with  business  always.  And 
there  is  no  educated  human  being  less  likely  to  know 
business,  worse  placed  for  knowing  business,  than  a young 
lord.  Business  is  really  more  agreeable  than  pleasure ; it 
interests  the  whole  mind,  the  aggregate  nature  of  man 
more  continuously,  and  more  deeply.  But  it  does  not 
look  as  if  it  did.  It  is  difficult  to  convince  a young  man, 
who  can  have  the  best  of  pleasure,  that  it  will.  A young 

lord  just  come  into  30,000^.  a year  will  not,  as  a rule, 
13 


186 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION, 


care  much  for  the  law  of  patents,  for  the  law  of  “ passing 
tolls,”  or  the  law  of  prisons.  Like  Hercules,  he  may 
choose  virtue,  but  hardly  Hercules  could  choose  business. 
He  has  everything  to  allure  him  from  it,  and  nothing  to 
allure  him  to  it.  And  even  if  he  wish  to  give  himself  to 
business,  he  has  indifferent  means.  Pleasure  is  near  him, 
but  business  is  far  from  him.  Few  things  are  more 
amusing  than  the  ideas  of  a well-intentioned  young  man, 
who  is  born  out  of  the  business  world,  but  who  wishes  to 
take  to  business,  about  business.  He  has  hardly  a notion 
in  what  it  consists.  It  really  is  the  adjustment  of  certain 
particular  means  to  equally  certain  particular  ends.  But 
hardly  any  young  man  destitute  of  experience  is  able  to 
separate  end  and  means.  It  seems  to  him  a kind  of 
mystery;  and  it  is  lucky  if  he  do  not  think  that  the 
forms  are  the  main  part,  and  that  the  end  is  but  secondary. 
There  are  plenty  of  business  men,  falsely  so  called,  who 
will  advise  him  so.  The  subject  seems  a kind  of  maze. 
‘‘What  would  you  recommend  me  to  readV^  the  nice 
youth  asks ; and  it  is  impossible  to  explain  to  him  that 
reading  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,  that  he  has  not  yet  the 
original  ideas  in  his  mind  to  read  about ; that  adminis- 
tration is  an  art  as  painting  is  an  art ; and  that  no  book 
can  teach  the  practice  of  either. 

Formerly  this  defect  in  the  aristocracy  was  hidden  by 
their  other  advantages.  Being  the  only  class  at  ease  for 
money  and  cultivated  in  mind  they  were  wither  t compe- 
tition; and  though  they  might  not  be,  as  a rule,  and 
extraordinary  ability  excepted,  excellent  in  State  business, 
they  were  the  best  that  could  be  had.  Even  in  old  times, 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


187 


lowever,  they  sheltered  themselves  from  the  greater  pres- 
sure of  coarse  work.  They  appointed  a manager — a Peel 
or  a Walpole,  anything  but  an  aristocrat  in  manner  or  in 
nature — to  act  for  them  and  manage  for  them.  But  now 
a class  is  coming  up  trained  to  thought,  full  of  money, 
and  yet  trained  to  business.  As  I write,  two  members  of 
this  class  have  been  appointed  to  stations  considerable  in 
themselves,  and  sure  to  lead  (if  anything  is  sure  in  politics) 
to  the  Cabinet  and  power.  This  is  the  class  of  highly- 
cultivated  men  of  business  who,  after  a few  years,  are  able 
to  leave  business  and  begin  ambition.  As  yet  these  men 
are  few  in  public  life,  because  they  do  not  know  their  own 
strength.  It  is  like  Columbus  and  the  egg  once  again ; 
a few  original  men  will  show  it  can  be  done,  and  then  a 
crowd  of  common  men  will  follow.  These  men  know 
business  partly  from  tradition,  and  this  is  much.  There 
are  University  families — families  who  talk  of  fellowships, 
and  who  invest  their  children’s  ability  in  Latin  verses  as 
soon  as  they  discover  it ; there  used  to  be  Indian  families 
of  the  same  sort,  and  probably  will  be  again  when  the 
competitive  system  has  had  time  to  foster  a new  breed. 
Just  so  there  are  business  families  to  whom  all  that  con- 
cerns money,  all  that  concerns  administration,  is  as  familiar 
as  the  air  they  breathe.  All  Americans,  it  has  been  said, 
know  business  ; it  is  in  the  air  of  their  country.  Just  so 
certain  classes  know  business  here ; and  a lord  can  hardly 
know  it.  It  is  as  great  a difficulty  to  learn  business  in  a 
palace  as  it  is  to  learn  agriculture  in  a park 

To  one  kind  of  business,  indeed,  this  doctrine  does 
not  apply.  There  is  one  kind  of  business  in  which  oui 


188 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


aristocracy  have  still,  and  are  likely  to  retain  long,  a 
certain  advantage.  This  is  the  business  of  diplomacy. 
Napoleon,  who  knew  men  well,  would  never,  if  he  could 
help  it,  employ  men  of  the  Eevolution  in  missions  to  the 
old  courts ; he  said,  They  spoke  to  no  one,  and  no  one 
spoke  to  them  ; ” and  so  they  sent  home  no  information. 
The  reason  is  obvious.  The  old-world  diplomacy  of  Europe 
was  largely  carried  on  in  drawing-rooms,  and,  to  a great 
extent,  of  necessity  still  is  so.  Nations  touch  at  their 
summits.  It  is  always  the  highest  class  which  travels 
most,  knows  most  of  foreign  nations,  has  the  least  of  the 
territorial  sectarianism  which  calls  itself  patriotism,  and 
is  often  thought  to  be  so.  Even  here,  indeed,  in  England 
the  new  trade-class  is  in  real  merit  equal  to  the  aristo- 
cracy, Their  knowledge  of  foreign  things  is  as  great,  and 
their  contact  with  them  often  more.  But,  notwithstanding, 
the  new  race  is  not  as  serviceable  for  diplomacy  as  the 
old  race.  An  ambassador  is  not  simply  an  agent ; he  is  also 
a spectacle.  He  is  sent  abroad  for  show  as  well  as  for  sub- 
stance; he  is  to  represent  the  Queen  among  foreign  courts 
and  foreign  sovereigns.  An  aristocracy  is  in  its  nature 
better  suited  to  such  work  : it  is  trained  to  the  theatrical 
part  of  life  ; it  is  fit  for  that  if  it  is  fit  for  anything. 

But,  with  this  exception,  an  aristocracy  is  necessarily 
inferior  in  business  to  the  classes  nearer  business  ; and  it 
is  not,  therefore,  a suitable  class,  if  we  had  our  choice  of 
classes,  out  of  which  to  frame  a chamber  for  revising  mat- 
ters of  business.  It  is  indeed  a singular  example  how 
natural  business  is  to  the  English  race,  that  the  House  of 
Lords  works  as  well  as  it  does.  Tne  common  appearance 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


189 


of  the  whole  House”  is  a jest — a dangerous  anomaly, 
which  Mr.  Bright  will  sometimes  use  ; but  a great  deal  of 
substantial  work  is  done  in  Committees,”  and  often  very 
well  done.  The  great  majority  of  the  Peers  do  none  of 
their  appointed  work,  and  could  do  none  of  it;  but  a 
minority — a minority  never  so  large  and  never  so  earnest 
as  in  this  age — do  it,  and  do  it  well.  Still  no  one,  who 
examines  the  matter  without  prejudice,  can  say  that  the 
work  is  done  perfectly.  In  a country  so  rich  in  mind  as 
England,  far  more  intellectual  power  can  be,  and  ought 
to  be,  applied  to  the  revision  of  our  laws. 

And  not  only  does  the  House  of  Lords  do  its  work  im-  ^ 
perfectly,  but  often,  at  least,  it  does  it  timidly.  Being 
only  a section  of  the  nation,  it  is  afraid  of  the  nation. 
Having  been  used  for  years  and  years,  on  the  greatest 
matters  to  act  contrary  to  its  own  judgment,  it  hardly 
knows  when  to  act  on  that  judgment.  The  depressing 
languor  with  which  it  damps  an  earnest  young  Peer  is  at 
times  ridiculous.  “ When  the  Corn  Laws  are  gone,  and 
the  rotten  boroughs,  why  tease  about  Clause  IX.  in  the 
Bill  to  regulate  Cotton  Factories  ? ” is  the  latent  thought 
of  many  Peers.  A word  from  the  leaders,  from  the 
Duke,”  or  Lord  Derby,  or  Lord  Lyndhurst,  will  rouse  on 
any  matters  the  sleeping  energies ; but  most  Lords  are 
feeble  and  forlorn. 

These  grave  defects  would  have  been  at  once  lessened, 
ani  in  the  course  of  years  nearly  effaced,  if  the  House  of 
Lords  had  not  resisted  the  proposal  of  Lord  Palmerston’s 
first  government  to  create  peers  for  life.  The  exj)edient 
was  almost  perfect.  The  difficulty  of  reforming  an  old 


190 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


institution  like  the  House  of  Lords  is  necessarily  grt?at , 
its  possibility  rests  on  continuous  caste  and  ancient  defer 
ence.  And  if  you  begin  to  agitate  about  it,  to  bawl  at 
meetings  about  it,  that  deference  is  gone,  its  peculiav 
charm  lost,  its  reserved  sanctity  gone.  But,  by  an  odd 
fatality,  there  was  in  the  recesses  of  the  Constitution  an 
old  prerogative  which  would  have  rendered  agitation 
needless — which  would  have  effected,  without  agitation, 
all  that  agitation  could  have  effected.  Lord  Palmerston 
was — now  that  he  is  dead,  and  his  memory  can  be  calmly 
viewed — as  firm  a friend  to  an  aristocracy,  as  thorough  an 
aristocrat,  as  any  in  England  ; yet  he  proposed  to  use  that 
power.  If  the  House  of  Lords  had  stiU  been  under  the 
rule  of  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  perhaps  they  would  have 
acquiesced.  The  Duke  would  not  indeed  have  reflected 
on  all  the  considerations  which  a philosophic  statesman 
would  have  set  out  before  him ; but  he  would  have  been 
brought  right  by  one  of  his  peculiarities.  He  disliked, 
above  all  things,  to  oppose  the  Crown.  At  a gi’eat  crisis, 
at  the  crisis  of  the  Corn  Laws,  what  he  considered  was  not 
what  other  people  were  thinking  of,  the  economical  issue 
under  discussion,  the  welfare  of  the  country  hanging  in 
the  balance,  but  the  Queen’s  ease.  He  thought  the  Crown 
BO  superior  a part  in  the  Constitution,  that,  even  on  vital 
occasions,  he  looked  solely — or  said  he  looked  solely — to 
the  momentary  comfort  of  the  present  sovereign.  He 
never  was  comfortable  in  opposing  a conspicuous  act  of 
the  Crown.  It  is  very  likely  that,  if  the  Duke  had  still 
been  the  President  of  the  House  of  Lords,  they  would  have 
permitted  the  Crown  to  prevail  in  its  welLchosen  scheme 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


191 


Bvt  the  Duke  was  dead,  and  his  authority — or  some  of  it 
— had  fallen  to  a very  different  person.  Lord  Lyndhurst 
had  many  great  qualities ; he  had  a splendid  intellect — 
as  great  a faculty  of  finding  truth  as  any  one  in  his  gene- 
ration ; but  he  had  no  love  of  truth.  With  this  great 
faculty  of  finding  truth,  he  was  a believer  in  error — in 
what  his  own  party  now  admit  to  be  error — all  his  life 
through.  He  could  have  found  the  truth  as  a statesman 
just  as  he  found  it  when  a judge  ; but  he  never  did  find 
it.  He  never  looked  for  it.  He  was  a great  partisan,  and 
he  applied  a capacity  of  argument,  and  a faculty  of  intel- 
lectual argument  rarely  equalled,  to  support  the  tenets  of 
his  party.  The  proposal  to  create  life-peers  was  proposed 
by  the  antagonistic  party — was  at  the  moment  likely  to 
injure  his  own  party.  To  him  this  was  a great  opportu- 
nity. The  speech  he  delivered  on  that  occasion  lives 
in  the  memory  of  those  who  heard  it.  His  eyes  did  not 
at  that  time  let  him  read,  so  he  repeated  by  memory,  and 
quite  accurately,  all  the  black-letter  authorities  bearing 
on  the  question.  So  great  an  intellectual  effort  has  rarely 
been  seen  in  an  English  assembly.  But  the  result  was 
deplorable.  Not  by  means  of  his  black-letter  authorities, 
but  by  means  of  his  recognised  authority  and  his  vivid 
impression,  he  induced  the  House  of  Lords  to  reject  the 
proposition  of  the  Government.  Lord  Lyndhurst  said  the 
Crown  could  not  now  create  life-peers,  and  so  there  are  no 
life-peers.  The  House  of  Lords  rejected  the  inestimable, 
the  unprecedented  opportunity  of  being  tacitly  reformed. 
Such  a chance  does  not  come  twice.  The  life-peers  who 
would  have  been  then  introduced  would  have  been  among 


192 


THE  Ej^GLISH  constitution. 


the  first  men  in  the  country.  Lord  Macaulay  was  to  have 
been  among  the  first;  Lord  Wensleydale — the  most  learned 
and  not  the  least  logical  of  our  lawyers — to  be  the  verj 
first.  Thirty  or  forty  such  men,  added  judiciously  and 
sparingly  as  years  went  on,  would  have  given  to  the  House 
of  Lords  the  very  element  which,  as  a criticising  Cham- 
ber, it  needs  so  much.  It  would  have  given  it  critics. 
The  most  accomplished  men  in  each  department  might 
then,  without  irrelevant  considerations  of  family  and  of 
fortune,  have  been  added  to  the  Chamber  of  Eeview.  The 
very  element  which  was  wanted  to  the  House  of  Lords 
was,  as  it  were,  by  a constitutional  providence,  offered  to 
the  House  of  Lords,  and  they  refused  it.  By  what  species 
of  effort  that  error  can  be  repaired,  I cannot  tell ; but. 
unless  it  is  repaired,  the  intellectual  capacity  can  never 
be  what  it  would  have  been,  will  never  be  what  it  ought 
to  be,  will  never  be  sufficient  for  its  work. 

Another  reform  ought  to  have  accompanied  the  creation 
of  life-peers.  Proxies  ought  to  have  been  abolished. 
Some  time  or  other  the  slack  attendance  of  the  House  of 
Lords  will  destroy  the  House  of  Lords.  There  are  occa- 
sions in  which  appearances  are  realities,  and  this  is  one 
of  them.  The  House  of  Lords  on  most  days  looks  so  unlike 
what  it  ought  to  be,  that  most  people  will  not  believe  it  is 
what  it  ought  to  be.  The  attendance  of  considerate  peers 
will,  for  obvious  reasons,  be  larger  when  it  can  no  longer 
be  overpowered  by  the  -noTi-attendance,  by  the  commis- 
sioned votes  of  inconsiderate  peers.  The  abolition  of 
proxies  woijld  have  made  the  House  of  Lords  a real 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LOEDS. 


193 


House ; the  addition  of  life-peers  would  have  made  it  a 
^ood  House. 

The  greater  of  these  changes  would  have  most  mate- 
rially aided  the  House  of  Lords  in  the  performance  of  its 
subsidiary  functions.  It  always  perhaps  happens  in  a 
great  nation,  that  certain  bodies  of  sensible  men  posted 
prominently  in  its  constitution,  acquire  functions,  and 
usefully  exercise  functions,  which,  at  the  outset,  no  one 
expected  from  them,  and  which  do  not  identify  themselves 
with  their  original  design.  This  has  happened  to  the 
House  of  Lords  especially.  The  most  obvious  instance  is 
the  judicial  function.  This  is  a function  which  no  theo- 
rist would  assign  to  a second  chamber  in  a new  constitu- 
tion, and  which  is  matter  of  accident  in  ours.  Gradually, 
indeed,  the  unfitness  of  the  second  chamber  for  judicial 
functions  has  made  itself  felt.  Under  our  present  arrange- 
ments this  function  is  not  intrusted  to  the  House  of  Lords, 
but  to  a Committee  of  the  House  of  Lords.  On  one  occa- 
sion only,  the  trial  of  O’Connell,  the  whole  House,  or  some 
few  in  the  whole  House,  wished  to  vote,  and  they  were 
told  they  could  not,  or  they  would  destroy  the  judicial 
prerogative.  No  one,  indeed,  would  venture  really  to  place 
the  judicial  function  in  the  chance  majorities  of  a fiuc- 
tuating  assembly : it  is  so  by  a sleepy  theory  ; it  is  not  so 
in  living  fact.  As  a legal  question,  too,  it  is  a matter  of 
grave  doubt  whether  there  ought  to  be  two  supreme  courts 
in  this  country — the  Judicial  Committee  of  the  Privy 
Council,  and  (what  is  in  fact  though  not  in  name)  the 
Judicial  Committee  of  the  House  of  Lords.  Up  to  a verv 


194 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


recent  time  one  committee  might  decide  that  a man  waa 
Bane  as  to  money,  and  the  other  committee  might  decide 
that  he  was  insane  as  to  land.  This  absurdity  has  been 
cured ; but  the  error  from  which  it  arose  has  not  been 
cured — ^the  error  of  having  two  supreme  courts,  to  both  of 
which,  as  time  goes  on,  the  same  question  is  sure  often 
enough  to  be  submitted,  and  each  of  which  is  sure  every 
now  and  then  to  decide  it  differently.  I do  not  reckon 
the  judicial  function  of  the  House  of  Lords  as  one  of  its 
true  subsidiary  functions,  first  because  it  does  not  in  fact 
exercise  it,  next  because  I wish  to  see  it  in  appearance 
deprived  of  it.  The  supreme  court  of  the  English  people 
ought  to  be  a great  conspicuous  tribunal,  ought  to  rule  all 
other  counts,  oiiglit  to  have  no  competitor,  ought  to  bring 
our  law  into  unity,  ought  not  to  be  hidden  beneath  the 
robes  of  a legislative  assembly. 

The  real  subsidiary  functions  of  the  House  of  Lords  are, 
unlike  its  judicial  functions,  very  analogous  to  its  sub- 
stantial nature.  The  first  is  the  faculty  of  criticising  the 
executive.  An  assembly  in  which  the  mass  of  the  mem- 
bers have  nothing  to  lose,  where  most  have  nothing  to 
gain,  where  every  one  has  a social  position  firmly  fixed, 
where  no  one  has  a constituency,  where  hardly  any  one 
cares  for  the  minister  of  the  day,  is  the  very  assembly  in 
which  to  look  for,  from  which  to  expect,  independent  cri- 
ticism. And  in  matter  of  fact,  we  find  it.  The  criticism 
of  the  acts  of  late  administrations  by  Lord  Grey  has  been 
admirable.  But  sucn  criticism,  to  have  its  full  value, 
should  be  many-sided.  Every  man  of  great  ability  puts 
his  own  mark  on  his  own  criticism;  it  will  be  full  of 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


195 


thought  and  feeling,  but  then  it  is  of  idiosyncratic  thought 
and  feeling.  We  want  many  critics  of  ability  and  know- 
ledge in  the  Upper  House — ^not  equal  to  Lord  Grrey,  for 
they  would  be  hard  to  find — ^but  like  Lord  Grey.  They 
should  resemble  him  in  impartiality  ; they  should  resemble 
him  in  clearness  ; they  should  most  of  all  resemble  him  in 
taking  the  supplemental  view  of  a subject.  There  is  an 
actor’s  view  of  a subject  which  (I  speak  of  mature  and 
discussed  action — of  Cabinet  action)  is  nearly  sure  to  in- 
clude everything  old  and  new — everything  ascertained 
and  determinate.  But  there  is  also  a bystander’s  view, 
which  is  likely  to  omit  some  one  or  more  of  these  old  and 
certain  elements,  but  also  to  contain  some  new  or  distant 
matter  which  the  absorbed  and  occupied  actor  could  not 
see.  There  ought  to  be  many  life-peers  in  our  secondary 
chamber  capable  of  giving  us  this  higher  criticism.  I am 
afraid  we  shall  not  soon  see  them,  but  as  a first  step  we 
should  learn  to  wish  for  them. 

The  second  subsidiary  action  of  the  House  of  Lords  is 
even  more  important.  Taking  the  House  of  Commons, 
not  after  possible  but  most  unlikely  improvements,  but  in 
matter  of  fact  and  as  it  stands,  it  is  overwhelmed  with 
work.  The  task  of  managing  it  falls  upon  the  Cabinet, 
and  that  task  is  very  hard.  Every  member  of  the  Cabinet 
in  the  Commons  has  to  “ attend  the  House ; ” to  contribute 
by  nis  votes,  if  not  by  his  voice,  to  the  management  of  the 
House.  Even  in  so  small  a matter  as  the  education  ie 
partment,  Mr.  Lowe,  a consummate  observer,  spoke  of  the 
desirability  of  finding  a chief  not  exposed  to  the 
prodigious  labour  of  attending  the  House  of  Commons.”  It 


196 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


is  all  but  necessary  that  certain  members  of  the  Cabinet 
should  be  exempt  from  its  toil,  and  untouched  by  its 
excitement.  But  it  is  also  necessary  that  they  should  have 
the  power  of  explaining  their  views  to  the  nation;  of 
being  heard  as  other  people  are  heard.  There  are  various 
plans  for  so  doing,  which  I may  discuss  a little  in  speaking 
of  the  House  of  Commons.  But  so  much  is  evident : the 
House  of  Lords,  for  its  own  members,  attains  this  object ; 
it  gives  them  a voice ; it  gives  them  what  no  competing 
plan  does  give  them — position.  The  leisured  members 
of  the  Cabinet  speak  in  the  Lords  with  authority  and 
power.  They  are  not  administrators  with  a right  to  speech 
— clerks  (as  is  sometimes  suggested)  brought  down  to 
lecture  a House,  but  not  to  vote  in  it ; but  they  are  the 
equals  of  those  they  speak  to ; they  speak  as  they  like, 
and  reply  as  they  choose ; they  address  the  House,  not 
with  the  bated  breath  ” of  subordinates,  but  with  the 
force  and  dignity  of  sure  rank.  Life-peers  would  enable 
us  to  use  this  faculty  of  our  Constitution  more  freely  and 
more  variously.  It  would  give  us  a larger  command  of 
able  leisure ; it  would  improve  the  Lords  as  a political 
pulpit,  for  it  would  enlarge  the  list  of  its  select  preachers. 

The  danger  of  the  House  of  Commons  is,  perhaps, 
that  it  will  be  reformed  too  rashly;  the  danger  of  the 
House  of  Lords  certainly  is,  that  it  may  never  be 
reformed.  Nobody  asks  that  it  should  be  so ; it  is 
quite  safe  against  rough  destruction,  but  it  is  not  safe 
against  inward  decay.  It  may  lose  its  veto  as  the 
Crown  has  lost  its  veto.  If  most  of  its  members 
neglect  their  duties,  if  all  its  members  continue  to 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


197 


oe  of  one  class,  and  that  not  quite  the  best ; if  its  doors 
are  shut  against  genius  that  cannot  found  a family,  and 
ability  which  has  not  five  thousand  a year,  its  power  will 
be  less  year  by  year,  and  at  last  be  gone,  as  so  much  kingly 
power  is  gone — ^no  one  knows  how.  Its  danger  is  not  ic 
assassination,  but  atrophy  ; not  abolition,  but  decline.  ( 


VL 

y THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS,* 

The  dignified  aspect  of  the  House  of  Commons  is  alto- 
gether secondary  to  its  efficient  use.  It  is  dignified : in 
a government  in  which  the  most  prominent  parts  are  good 
because  they  are  very  stately,  any  prominent  part,  to  be 
good  at  all,  must  be  somewhat  stately.  The  human  ima- 
gination exacts  keeping  in  government  as  much  as  in  art ; 
it  will  not  be  at  all  influenced  by  institutions  which  do 
not  match  with  those  by  which  it  is  principally  influenced. 
The  House  of  Commons  needs  to  be  impressive,  and  im- 
pressive it  is : but  its  use  resides  not  in  its  appearance, 
but  in  its  reality.  Its  office  is  not  to  win  power  by  awing 
mankind,  but  to  use  power  in  governing  mankind. 

The  main  function  of  the  House  of  Commons  is  one 
which  we  know  quite  well,  though  our  common  constitu- 
tional speech  does  not  recognise  it.  The  House  of  Com- 
mons is  an  electoral  chamber ; it  is  the  assembly  which 
chooses  our  president.  Washington  and  his  fellow- 
politicians  contrived  an  electoral  college,  to  be  composed 

* 1 reprint  this  chapter  substantially  as  it  was  first  written.  It  i«  too 
ioon,  as  I have  explained  in  the  introduction,  to  say  what  changes  the  lats 
Reform  Act  will  make  in  the  House  of  Commons. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


^as  was  hoped)  of  the  wisest  people  in  the  nation,  which* 
after  due  deliberation,  was  to  choose  for  President  the 
wisest  man  in  the  nation.  But  that  college  is  a sham  ; it 
has  no  independence  and  no  life.  No  one  knows,  or  cares 
to  know,  who  its  members  are.  They  never  discuss,  and 
never  deliberate.  They  were  chosen  to  vote  that  Mr. 
Lincoln  be  President,  or  that  Mr.  Breckenridge  be  Presi- 
dent ; they  do  so  vote,  and  they  go  home.  But  our  House 
of  Commons  is  a real  choosing  body ; it  elects  the  people 
it  likes.  And  it  dismisses  whom  it  likes  too.  No  matter 
that  a few  months  since  it  was  chosen  to  support  Lord 
Aberdeen  or  Lord  Palmerston  ; upon  a sudden  occasion  it 
ousts  the  statesman  to  whom  it  at  first  adhered,  and  selects 
an  opposite  statesman  whom  it  at  first  rejected.  Doubtless 
in  such  cases  there  is  a tacit  reference  to  probable  public 
opinion ; but  certainly  also  there  is  much  free  will  in  the 
judgment  of  the  Commons.  The  House  only  goes  where 
it  thinks  in  the  end  the  nation  will  follow ; but  it  takes 
its  chance  of  the  nation  following  or  not  following ; it 
assumes  the  initiative,  and  acts  upon  its  discretion  or  its 
caprice. 

When  the  American  nation  has  chosen  its  President, 
its  virtue  goes  out  of  it,  and  out  of  the  Transmissive  Col- 
lege through  which  it  chooses.  But  because  the  House 
of  Commons  has  the  power  of  dismissal  in  addition  to  the 
power  of  election,  its  relations  to  the  Premier  are  in- 
cessant. They  guide  him,  and  he  leads  them.  He  is  to 
them  what  they  are  to  the  nation.  He  only  goes  where 
he  believes  they  will  go  after  him.  But  he  has  to  take 
the  lead ; he  must  choose  his  direction,  and  begin  the 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


^ourney.  Nor  must  he  flinch.  A good  horse  likes  to  feel 
the  rider’s  bit ; and  a great  deliberative  assembly  likes  to 
feel  that  it  is  under  worthy  guidance.  A minister  who 
succumbs  to  the  House, — who  ostentatiously  seeks  its 
pleasure, — who  does  not  try  to  regulate  it, — who  will  not 
boldly  point  out  plain  errors  to  it,  seldom  thrives.  The 
great  leaders  of  Parliament  have  varied  much,  but  they 
have  all  had  a certain  firmness.  A great  assembly  is  as 
soon  spoiled  by  over-indulgence  as  a little  child.  jThe 
whole  life  of  English  politics  is  the  action  and  reaction 
between  the  Ministry  and  the  Parliament.  The  appointees 
strive  to  guide,  and  the  appointors  surge  under  the 
guidance. 

The  elective  is  now  the  most  important  function  of  the 
House  of  Commons.  It  is  most  desirable  to  insist,  and  be 
tedious,  on  this,  because  our  tradition  ignores  it.  At  the 
end  of  half  the  sessions  of  Parliament,  you  will  read  in 
the  newspapers,  and  you  will  hear  even  from  those  who 
have  looked  close  at  the  matter  and  should  know  better. 

Parliament  has  done  nothing  this  session.  Some  things 
were  promised  in  the  Queen’s  speech,  but  they  were  only 
little  things  ; and  most  of  them  have  not  passed.”  Lord 
Lyndhurst  used  for  years  to  recount  the  small  outcomings 
of  legislative  achievement ; and  yet  those  were  the  days 
of  the  first  Whig  Grovernments,  who  had  more  to  do  in 
legislation,  and  did  more,  than  any  Grovernment.  The 
true  answer  to  such  harangues  as  Lord  Lyndhurst’s  by  a 
Minister  should  have  been  in  the  first  person.  He  should 
have  said  firmly,  “ Parliament  has  maintained  me,  and 
that  was  its  greatest  duty ; Parliament  has  carried  on 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


201 


irhat,  in  the  language  of  traditional  respect,  we  call 
the  Queen’s  Grovernment ; it  has  maintained  what  wisely 
or  unwisely  it  deemed  the  best  Executive  of  the  English 
nation.” 

The  second  function  of  the  House  of  Commons  is  what 
I may  call  an  expressive  function.  It  is  its  office  to  ex- 
press the  mind  of  the  English  people  on  all  matters  which 
come  before  it.  Whether  it  does  so  well  or  ill  I shall 
discuss  presently. 

The  third  function  of  Parliament  is  what  I may  call — 
preserving  a sort  of  technicality  even  in  familiar  matters 
for  the  sake  of  distinctness — the  teaching  function.  A 
great  and  open  council  of  considerable  men  cannot  be 
placed  in  the  middle  of  a society  without  altering  that 
society.  It  ought  to  alter  it  for  the  better.  It  ought  to 
teach  the  nation  what  it  does  not  know.  How  far  the 
House  of  Commons  can  so  teach,  and  how  far  it  does  so  ^ 
teach,  are  matters  for  subsequent  discussion. 

Fourthly,  the  House  of  Commons  has  what  may  be 
called  an  informing  function — a function  which  though 
in  its  present  form  quite  modern  is  singularly  analogous 
to  a mediaeval  function.  In  old  times  one  office  of  the 
House  of  Commons  was  to  inform  the  Sovereign  what  was 
wrong.  It  laid  before  the  Crown  the  grievances  and  com- 
plaints of  particular  interests.  Since  the  publication  of  the 
Parliamentary  debates  a corresponding  office  of  Parliament 
is  to  lay  these  same  grievances,  these  same  complaints, 
before  the  nation,  which  is  the  present  sovereign.  The 
nation  needs  it  quite  as  much  as  the  king  ever  needed  it 
A free  people  is  indeed  mostly  fair,  liberty  practises  men 
14 


202 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


in  a give-and-take,  which  is  the  rough  essence  of  j astice. 
The  English  people,  possibly  even  above  other  free  nations,'! 
is  fair.  But  a free  nation  rarely  can  be — and  the  English 
nation  is  not — quick  of  apprehension.  It  only  compre- 
hends what  is  familiar  to  it — what  comes  into  its  own 
experience,  what  squares  with  its  own  thoughts.  I 
never  heard  of  such  a thing  in  my  life,”  the  middle-class 
Englishman  says,  and  he  thinks  he  so  refutes  an  argu- 
ment. The  common  disputant  cannot  say  in  reply  that 
his  experience  is  but  limited,  and  that  the  assertion  may 
be  true,  though  he  had  never  met  with  anything  at  all 
like  it.  But  a great  debate  in  Parliament  does  bring 
home  something  of  this  feeling.  Any  notion,  any  creed, 
any  feeling,  any  grievance  which  can  get  a decent  number 
of  English  members  to  stand  up  for  it,  is  felt  by  almost  all 
Englishmen  to  be  perhaps  a false  and  pernicious  opinion, 
but  at  any  rate  possible — an  opinion  within  the  intel- 
lectual sphere,  an  opinion  to  be  reckoned  with.  And  it  is 
an  immense  achievement.  Practical  diplomatists  say  that 
a free  government  is  harder  to  deal  with  than  a despotic 
government : you  may  be  able  to  get  the  despot  to  hear 
the  other  side ; his  ministers,  men  of  trained  intelligence, 
will  be  sure  to  know  what  makes  against  them ; and  they 
may  tell  him.  But  a free  nation  never  hears  any  side 
save  its  own.  The  newspapers  only  repeat  the  side  their 
purchasers  like : the  favourable  arguments  are  set  out, 
elaborated,  illustrated;  the  adverse  arguments  maimed, 
misstated,  confused.  The  worst  judge,  they  say,  is  a deaf 
judge ; the  most  dull  government  is  a free  government 
on  matters  its  ruling  classes  will  no^  hear.  I am  disposed 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


203 


to  reckon  it  as  the  second  function  of  Parliament  in  point 
of  importance,  that  to  some  extent  it  makes  us  hear  what 
otherwise  we  should  not. 

Lastly,  there  is  the  function  of  legislation,  of  which  of 
course  it  would  be  preposterous  to  deny  the  great  imports- 
ance,  and  which  I only  deny  to  be  as  important  as  the 
executive  management  of  the  whole  state,  or  the  political 
education  given  by  Parliament  to  the  whole  nation. 
There  are,  I allow,  seasons  when  legislation  is  more  im- 
portant than  either  of  these.  The  nation  may  be  misfitted 
with  its  laws,  and  need  to  change  them : some  particular 
corn  law  may  hurt  all  industry,  and  it  may  be  worth  a 
thousand  administrative  blunders  to  get  rid  of  it.  But'\ 
generally  the  laws  of  a nation  suit  its  life ; special 
adaptations  of  them  are  but  subordinate ; the  administra- 
tion and  conduct  of  that  life  is  the  matter  which  pressesj 
most.  Nevertheless,  the  statute-book  of  every  great  nation 
yearly  contains  many  important  new  laws,  and  the  English 
statute-book  does  so  above  any.  An  immense  mass, 
indeed,  of  the  legislation  is  not,  in  the  proper  language 
of  jurisprudence,  legislation  at  all.  A law  is  a general 
command  applicable  to  many  cases.  The  special  acts  ” 
which  crowd  the  statute-book  and  weary  parliamentary 
committees  are  applicable  to  one  case  only.  They  do  not 
lay  down  rules  according  to  which  railways  shall  be  made, 
they  enact  that  such  a railway  shall  be  made  from  this 
place  to  that  place,  and  they  have  no  bearing  upon  any 
other  transaction.  But  after  every  deduction  and  abate- 
ment, the  annual  legislation  of  Parliament  is  a result 
of  singular  importance ; were  it  not  so,  it  could  not  be, 


204 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


as  it  often  is  considered,  the  sole  result  of  its  annual 
assembling. 

Some  persons  will  perhaps  think  that  I ougiit  to 
enumerate  a sixth  function  of  the  House  of  Commons 
—a  financial  function.  But  I do  not  consider  that,  upon 
broad  principle,  and  omitting  legal  technicalities,  the 
House  of  Commons  has  any  special  function  with  regard  to 
financial  different  from  its  functions  with  respect  to  other 
legislation.  It  is  to  rule  in  both,  and  to  rule  in  both 
through  the  Cabinet.  Financial  legislation  is  of  necessity 
a yearly  recurring  legislation  ; but  frequency  of  occurrence 
does  not  indicate  a diversity  of  nature  or  compel  an 
antagonism  of  treatment. 

In  truth,  the  principal  peculiarity  of  the  House  of 
Commons  in  financial  affairs  is  now-a-days  not  a special 
privilege,  but  an  exceptional  disability.  On  common 
subjects  any  member  can  propose  anything,  but  not  on 
money — the  minister  only  can  propose  to  tax  the  people. 
This  principle  is  commonly  involved  in  mediaeval  meta- 
physics as  to  the  prerogative  of  the  Crown,  but  it  is  as 
useful  in  the  nineteenth  century  as  in  the  fourteenth,  and 
rests  on  as  sure  a principle.  The  House  of  Commons — 
now  that  it  is  the  true  sovereign,  and  appoints  the  real 
executive — has  long  ceased  to  be  the  checking,  sparing, 
economical  body  it  once  was.  It  now  is  more  apt  to 
spend  money  than  the  minister  of  the  day.  I have  heard 
a very  experienced  financier  say,  “ If  you  want  to  raise  a 
certain  cheer  in  the  House  of  Commons  make  a general 
panegyric  on  economy  ; if  you  want  to  invite  a sure  defeat, 
propose  a particular  saving.”  The  process  is  simple 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


205 


Every  expenditure  of  public  money  has  some  apparent 
public  object ; those  who  wish  to  spend  the  money  expa- 
tiate on  that  object ; they  say,  What  is  50^0001.  to  this 
great  country  ? Is  this  a time  for  cheeseparing  objection  ? 
Our  industry  was  never  so  productive;  our  resources  never 
so  immense.  What  is  50,000^.  in  comparison  with  this 
great  national  interest?”  The  members  who  are  for  the 
expenditure  always  come  down ; perhaps  a constituent  or 
a friend  who  will  profit  by  the  outlay,  or  is  keen  on  the 
object,  has  asked  them  to  attend  ; at  any  rate,  there  is  a 
popular  vote  to  be  given,  on  which  the  newspapers — always 
philanthropic,  and  sometimes  talked  over — will  be  sure  to 
make  encomiums.  The  members  against  the  expenditure 
rarely  come  down  of  themselves  ; why  should  they  become 
unpopular  without  reason  ? The  object  seems  decent ; 
many  of  its  advocates  are  certainly  sincere : a hostile  vote 
will  make  enemies,  and  be  censured  by  the  journals.  If 
there  were  not  some  check,  the  people’s  house”  would 
soon  outrun  the  people’s  money. 

That  check  is  the  responsibility  of  the  Cabinet  for  the 
national  finance.  If  anyone  could  propose  a tax,  they 
might  let  the  House  spend  it  as  it  would,  and  wash  their 
hands  of  the  matter ; but  now,  for  whatever  expenditure 
is  sanctioned — even  when  it  is  sanctioned  against  the 
ministry’s  wish — the  ministry  must  find  the  money.  Ac- 
cordingly, they  have  the  strongest  motive  to  oppose  extra 
outlay.  They  will  have,  to  pay  the  bill  for  it ; they  will 
have  to  impose  taxation,  which  is  always  disagreeable,  or 
suggest  loans  which,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  are 
shameful.  The  ministry  is  (so  to  speak)  the  breadwinner 


206  . 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


of  the  political  family,  and  has  to  meet  the  cost  of  philan- 
thropy and  glory,  just  as  the  head  of  a family  has  to 
pay  for  the  charities  of  his  wife  and  the  toilette  of  his 
daughters. 

In  truth,  when  a Cabinet  is  made  the  sole  executive,  it 
follows  it  must  have  the  sole  financial  charge,  for  all 
action  costs  money,  all  policy  depends  on  money,  and  it 
is  in  adjusting  the  relative  goodness  of  action  and  policies 
that  the  executive  is  employed. 

From  a consideration  of  these  functions,  it  follows  that 
we  are  ruled  by  the  House  of  Commons ; we  are,  indeed, 
so  used  to  be  so  ruled,  that  it  does  not  seem  to  be  at  all 
strange.  But  of  all  odd  forms  of  government,  the  oddest 
really  is  government  by  a 'public  meeting.  Here  are  658 
persons,  collected  from  all  parts  of  England,  different  in 
nature,  different  in  interests,  different  in  look  and  lan- 
guage. If  we  think  what  an  empire  the  English  is,  how 
various  are  its  components,  how  incessant  its  concerns, 
how  immersed  in  history  its  policy : if  we  think  what  a 
vast  information,  what  a nice  discretion,  what  a consistent 
will  ought  to  mark  the  rulers  of  that  empire, — we  shall 
be  surprised  when  we  see  them.  We  see  a changing 
body  of  miscellaneous  persons,  sometimes  few,  sometimes 
many,  never  the  same  for  an  hour ; sometimes  excited, 
but  mostly  dull  and  half  weary,  —impatient  of  eloquence, 
catching  at  any  joke  as  an  alleviation.  These  are  the  per- 
sons who  rule  the  British  empire, — who  rule  England, — who 
rule  Scotland, — who  rule  Ireland, — who  rule  a great  deal 
of  Asia, — who  rule  a great  deal  of  Polynesia, — who  rule  a 
gi’eat  deal  of  America,  and  scattered  fragments  everywhere, 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


20; 


Paley  said  many  shrewd  things,  hut  he  never  said  a 
better  tl  dng  than  that  it  was  much  harder  to  make  men 
see  a difficulty  than  comprehend  the  explanation  of  it. 
The  key  to  the  difficulties  of  most  discussed  and  unsettled 
questions  is  commonly  in  their  undiscussed  parts ; they 
are  like  the  background  of  a picture  which  looks  obvious, 
easy,  just  what  any  one  might  have  painted,  but  which, 
in  fact,  sets  the  figures  in  their  right  position,  chastens 
them,  and  makes  them  what  they  are.  Nobody  will 
understand  parliament  government  who  fancies  it  an  easy 
thing,  a natural  thing,  a thing  not  needing  explanation. 
You  have  not  a perception  of  the  first  elements  in  this 
matter  till  you  know  that  government  by  a cluh  is  a 
standing  wonder. 

There  has  been  a capital  illustration  lately  how  helpless 
many  English  gentlemen  are  when  called  together  on  a 
sudden.  The  Government,  rightly  or  wrongly,  thought 
fit  to  entrust  the  quarter-sessions  of  each  county  with  the 
duty  of  combating  its  cattle  plague ; but  the  scene  in 
most  shire  halls  ” was  unsatisfactory.  There  was  the 
greatest  difficulty  in  getting,  not  only  a right  decision, 
but  any  decision.  I saw  one  myself  which  went  thus. 
The  chairman  proposed  a very  complex  resolution,  in 
which  there  was  much  which  every  one  liked,  and  much 
which  everyone  disliked,  though,  of  course,  the  favourite 
parts  of  some  were  the  objectionable  parts  to  others. 
This  resolution  got,  so  to  say,  wedged  in  the  meeting ; 
everybody  suggested  amendments ; one  amendment  was 
carried  which  none  were  satisfied  with,  and  so  the  matter 
stood  over.  It  is  a saying  in  England,  a big  meeting 


208 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


never  does  anything;”  and  yet  we  are  governed  by  thi 
House  of  Commons — by  “ a big  meeting.” 

It  may  be  said  that  the  House  of  Commons  does  net 
rule,  it  only  elects  the  rulers.  But  there  must  be  some- 
thing special  about  it  to  enable  it  to  do  that.  Suppose 
the  Cabinet  were  elected  by  a London  club,  what  con- 
fusion there  would  be,  what  writing  and  answering! 

Will  you  speak  to  So-and-So,  and  ask  him  to  vote  for 
my  man  ? ” would  be  heard  on  every  side.  How  the  wife 
of  A.  and  the  wife  of  B.  would  plot  to  confound  the  wife 
of  C.  Whether  the  club  elected  under  the  dignified 
shadow  of  a queen,  or  without  the  shadow,  would  hardly 
matter  at  all ; if  the  substantial  choice  was  in  them,  the 
confusion  and  intrigue  would  be  there  too.  I propose  to 
begin  this  paper  by  asking,  not  why  the  House  of  Com- 
mons governs  well?  but  the  fundamental — almost  un- 
asked-question— how  the  House  of  Commons  comes  to  be 
able  to  govern  at  all  ? 

The  House  of  Commons  can  do  work  which  the  quarter- 
sessions  or  clubs  cannot  do,  because  it  is  an  organised 
body,  while  quarter-sessions  and  clubs  are  unorganised. 
Two  of  the  greatest  orators  in  England — Lord  Brougham 
and  Lord  Bolingbroke — spent  much  eloquence  in  attack- 
ing party  government.  Bolingbroke  probably  knew  vhat 
he  was  doing ; he  was  a consistent  opponent  of  the  power 
of  the  Commons ; he  wished  to  attack  them  in  a vital 
part.  But  Lord  Brougham  does  not  know  he  proposes 
to  amend  parliamentary  government  by  striking  out  the 
very  elements  which  make  parliamentary  government 
possible.  At  present  the  majority  of  Parliament  obey 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


209 


certain  leaders ; what  those  leaders  propose  they  support, 
what  those  leaders  reject  they  reject.  An  old  Secretary 
of  the  Treasury  used  to  say,  “ This  is  a bad  case,  an  in- 
defensible case.  We  must  apply  our  majority  to  this 
question.”  That  secretary  lived  fifty  years  ago,  before 
the  Eeform  Bill,  when  majorities  were  very  blind,  and 
very  applicable.”  Now-a-days,  the  power  of  leaders 
over  their  followers  is  strictly  and  wisely  limited : they 
can  take  their  followers  but  a little  way,  and  that  only  in 
certain  directions.  Yet  still  there  are  leaders  and  fol- 
lowers. On  the  Conservative  side  of  the  House  there  are 
vestiges  of  the  despotic  leadership  even  now.  A cynical 
politician  is  said  to  have  watched  the  long  row  of  county 
members,  so  fresh  and  respectable-looking,  and  muttered, 

By  Jove,  they  are  the  finest  brute  votes  in  Europe  1 ” 
But  all  satire  apart,  the  principle  of  Parliament  is  obe- 
4ience  to  leaders.  Change  your  leader  if  you  will,  take 
another  if  you  will,  but  obey  No.  1 while  you  serve  No.  1, 
and  obey  No.  2 when  you  have  gone  over  to  No.  2.  The 
penalty  of  not  doing  so,  is  the  penalty  of  impotence.  It 
is  not  that  you  will  not  be  able  to  do  any  good,  but  you 
will  not  be  able  to  do  anything  at  all.  If  everybody  does 
what  he  thinks  right,  there  will  be  657  amendments  to 
every  motion,  and  none  of  them  will  be  carried  or  the 
motion  either. 

The  moment,  indeed,  that  we  distinctly  conceive  that 
the  House  of  Commons  is  mainly  and  above  all  things  an 
elective  assembly,  we  at  once  perceive  that  party  is  of  its 
essence.  There  never  was  an  election  without  a party 
You  cannot  get  a child  into  an  asylum  without  a combi- 


210 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


nation.  At  sucli  places  you  may  see  “ Vote  for  orphan 
A.”  upon  a placard,  and  ‘^Vote  for  orphan  B.  (also  an 
idiot  ! 1 !)”  upon  a banner,  and  the  party  of  each  is  busy 
about  its  placard  and  banner.  What  is  true  at  such 
minor  and  momentary  elections  must  be  much  more  true 
in  a great  and  constant  election  of  rulers.  The  House  of 
Commons  lives  in  a state  of  perpetual  potential  choice  ^ 
at  any  moment  it  can  choose  a ruler  and  dismiss  a ruler. 
And  therefore  party  is  inherent  in  it,  is  bone  of  its  bone, 
and  breath  of  its  breath. 

Secondly,  though  the  leaders  of  party  no  longer  have 
the  vast  patronage  of  the  last  century  with  which  to  bribe, 
they  can  coerce  by  a threat  far  more  potent  than  any 
allurement — they  can  dissolve.  This  is  the  secret  which 
keeps  parties  together.  Mr.  Cobden  most  justly  said, 

He  had  never  been  able  to  discover  what  was  the  proper 
moment,  according  to  members  of  Parliament,  for  a dis- 
solution. He  had  heard  them  say  they  were  ready  to 
vote  for  everything  else,  but  he  had  never  heard  them  say 
they  were  ready  to  vote  for  that.”  Efficiency  in  an 
assembly  requires  a solid  mass  of  steady  votes ; and  these 
are  collected  by  a deferential  attachment  to  particular 
men,  or  by  a belief  in  the  principles  those  men  represent, 
and  they  are  maintained  by  fear  of  those  men— ^by  the 
fear  that  if  you  vote  against  them,  you  may  yourself  soon 
not  have  a vote  at  all. 

Thirdly,  it  may  seem  odd  to  say  so,  just  after  inculcating 
that  party  organisation  is  the  vital  principle  of  representa- 
tive government,  but  that  organisation  is  permanently 
efficient,  because  it  is  not  composed  of  warm  partisans. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


211 


The  body  is  eager,  but  the  atoms  are  cod.  If  it  were 
otherwise,  parliamentary  government  would  become  the 
worst  of  governments — a sectarian  government.  The  party 
in  power  would  go  all  the  lengths  their  orators  proposed 
— all  that  their  formulae  enjoined,  as  far  as  they  had  ever 
said  they  would  go.  But  the  partisans  of  the  English 
Parliament  are  not  of  such  a temper.  They  are  Whigs 
or  Eadicals,  or  Tories,  but  they  are  much  else  too.  They 
are  common  Englishmen,  and,  as  Father  Newman  com- 
plains, hard  to  be  worked  up  to  the  dogmatic  level.” 
They  are  not  eager  to  press  the  tenets  of  their  party  to 
impossible  conclusions.  On  the  contrary,  the  way  to  lead 
them — the  best  and  acknowledged  way — is  to  affect  ? 
studied  and  illogical  moderation.  You  may  hear  men 
say,  ^‘Without  committing  myself  to  the  tenet  that  3 -f  2 
make  5,  though  I am  free  to  admit  that  the  honourable 
member  for  Bradford  has  advanced  very  grave  arguments 
in  behalf  of  it,  I think  I may,  with  the  permission  of  the 
Committee,  assume  that  2 + 3 do  not  make  4,  which  will 
be  a sufficient  basis  for  the  important  propositions  which 
I shall  venture  to  submit  on  the  present  occasion.”  This 
language  is  very  suitable  to  the  greater  part  of  the  House 
of  Commons.  Most  men  of  business  love  a sort  of  twi- 
light. They  have  lived  all  their  lives  in  an  atmosphere 
of  probabilities  and  of  doubt,  where  nothing  is  very  clear, 

‘ where  there  are  some  chances  for  many  events,  where  there 
is  much  to  be  said  for  several  courses,  where  nevertheless 
one  course  must  be  determinedly  chosen  and  fixedly  ad- 
hered to.  Theyy^ike  to  hear  arguments  suited  to  this 
intellectual  haze.  So  far  from  caution  or  hesitation  in 


212 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITl^TION. 


the  statement  of  the  argument  striking  them  as  an  indi- 
cation of  imbecility,  it  seems  to  them  a sign  of  practi- 
cality. They  got  rich  themselves  by  transactions  of  which 
they  could  not  have  stated  the  argumentative  ground — 
and  all  they  ask  for  is  a distinct,  though  moderate  con- 
clusion, that  they  can  repeat  when  asked;  something 
which  they  feel  not  to  be  abstract  argument,  but  abstract 
argument  diluted  and  dissolved  in  real  life.  There  seem 
to  me,”  an  impatient  young  man  once  said,  “ to  be  no 
stays  in  Peel’s  arguments.”  And  that  was  why  Sir  Eobert 
Peel  was  the  best  leader  of  the  Commons  in  our  time  ; we 
like  to  have  the  rigidity  taken  out  of  an  argument,  and 
the  substance  left. 

Nor  indeed,  under  our  system  of  government,  are  the 
leaders  themselves  of  the  House  of  Commons,  for  the  most 
part,  eager  to  carry  party  conclusions  too  far.  They 
are  in  contact  with  reality.  An  Opposition,  on  coming 
into  power,  is  often  like  a speculative  merchant  whose 
bills  become  due.  Ministers  have  to  make  good  their 
promises,  and  they  find  a difficulty  in  so  doing.  They 
have  said  the  state  of  things  is  so  and  so,  and  if  you 
give  us  the  power  we  will  do  thus  and  thus.  But  when 
they  come  to  handle  the  official  documents,  to  converse 
with  the  permanent  under-secretary — familiar  with  dis- 
agreeable facts,  and  though  in  manner  most  respectful, 
y’et  most  imperturbable  in  opinion — very  soon  doubts  in- 
tervene. Of  course,  something  must  be  done : the  specu- 
lative merchant  cannot  forget  his  bills ; the  late  Opposition 
cannot,  in  office,  forget  those  sentences  which  terrible 
admirers  in  the  country  still  quote.  But  just  as  th« 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


213 


merchant  asks  his  debtor,  ^ Could  you  not  take  a till  at 
four  months  ? ” so  the  new  minister  says  to  the  permanent 
under-secretary,  Could  you  not  suggest  a middle  course  ? 
I am  of  course  not  bound  by  mere  sentences  used  in  de- 
bate ; I have  never  been  accused  of  letting  a false  ambition 
of  consistency  warp  my  conduct ; but,”  &c.,  &c.  And  the 
end  always  is,  that  a middle  course  is  devised  which  looks 
as  much  as  possible  like  what  was  suggested  in  opposition, 
but  which  is  as  much  as  possible  what  patent  facts — facts 
which  seem  to  live  in  the  office,  so  teasing  and  unceasing 
are  they — prove  ought  to  be  done. 

Of  all  modes  of  enforcing  moderation  on  a party,  the 
best  is  to  contrive  that  the  members  of  that  party  shall  be 
intrinsically  moderate,  careful,  and  almost  shrinking  men  , 
and  the  next  best  to  contrive,  that  the  leaders  of  the 
party,  who  have  protested  most  in  its  behalf,  shall  be 
placed  in  the  closest  contact  with  the  actual  world.  Our 
English  system  contains  both  contrivances  : it  makes  party 
government  permanent  and  possible  in  the  sole  way  in 
which  it  can  be  so,  by  making  it  mild. 

But  these  expedients,  though  they  sufficiently  remove 
the  defects  which  make  a common  club  or  quarter-sessions 
impotent,  would  not  enable  the  House  of  Commons  to 
govern  England.  A representative  public  meeting  is 
subject  to  a defect  over  and  above  those  of  other  public 
meetings.  It  may  not  be  independent.  The  constituencies 
may  not  let  it  alone.  But  if  they  do  not,  all  the  checks 
which  have  been  enumerated  upon  the  evils  of  a party 
organisation  would  be  futile.  The  feeling  of  a consti- 
tuency is  the  feeling  of  a dominant  party,  and  that  feeling 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


214 

is  elicited,  stimulated,  sometimes  even  manufactm'ed  by 
the  local  political  agent.  Such  an  opinion  could  not  be 
moderate ; could  not  be  subject  to  effectual  discussion ; 
could  not  be  in  close  contact  with  pressing  facts  ; could 
not  be  framed  under  a chastening  sense  of  near  responsi- 
bility ; could  not  be  formed  as  those  form  their  opinions 
who  have  to  act  upon  them.  Constituency  government  ^ 
is  the  precise  opposite  of  parliamentary  government.  It 
is  the  government  of  immoderate  persons  far  from  the 
scene  of  action,  instead  of  the  government  of  moderate 
persons  close  to  the  scene  of  action ; it  is  the  judgment  of 
persons  judging  in  the  last  resort  and  without  a penalty, 
in  lieu  of  persons  judging  in  fear  of  a dissolution,  and  ever y 
conscious  that  they  are  subject  to  an  appeal. 

Most  persons  would  admit  these  conditions  of  parlia- 
mentary government  when  they  read  them,  but  two  at 
least  of  the  most  prominent  ideas  in  the  public  mind  are 
inconsistent  with  them.  The  scheme  to  which  the  argu- 
ments of  our  demagogues  distinctly  tend,  and  the  scheme 
to  which  the  predilections  of  some  most  eminent  philoso- 
phers cleave,  are  both  so.  They  would  not  only  make 
parliamentary  government  work  ill,  but  they  would  prevent 
its  working  at  all ; they  would  not  render  it  bad,  for  they 
would  make  it  impossible. 

The  first  of  these  is  the  ultra-democratic  theory.  This 
theory  demands  that  every  man  of  twenty-one  years  of 
age  (if  not  every  woman,  too)  should  have  an  equal  vote 
in  electing  Parliament.  Suppose  that  last  year  there  were 
twelve  millions  adult  males  in  England.  Upon  this 
theory  each  man  is  to  have  one  twelve-millionth  share  ic 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


215 


electing  a Parliament ; the  rich  and  wise  are  not  to  have, 
by  explicit  law,  more  votes  than  the  poor  and  stupid ; nor 
are  any  latent  contrivances  to  give  them  an  influence 
equivalent  to  more  votes.  The  machinery  for  carrying 
out  such  a plan  is  very  easy.  At  each  census  the  country 
ought  to  be  divided  into  658  electoral  districts,  in  each 
of  which  the  number  of  adult  males  should  be  the  same  ; 
and  these  districts  ought  to  be  the  only  constituencies,  and 
elect  the  whole  Parliament.  But  if  the  above  pre-requi- 
sites are  needful  for  parliamentary  government,  that  Par- 
liament would  :^t  work. 

Such  a Parliament  could  not  be  composed  of  moderate 
men.  The  electoral  districts  would  be,  some  of  them,  in 
purely  agricultural  places,  and  in  these  the  parson  and 
the  squire  would  have  almost  unlimited  power.  They 
would  be  able  to  drive  or  send  to  the  poll  an  entire  labour- 
ing population.  These  districts  would  return  an  unmixed 
squirearchy.  The  scattered  small  towns,  which  now  send 
so  many  members  to  Parliament,  would  be  lost  in  the 
clownish  mass  ; their  votes  would  send  to  Parliament  no 
distinct  members.  The  agricultural  part  of  England 
would  choose  its  representatives  from  quarter  sessions 
exclusively.  On  the  other  hand,  a large  part  of  the  coi^ 
stituencies  would  be  town  districts  ; and  these  would  send 
up  persons  representing  the  beliefs  or  the  unbeliefs  of  the 
lowest  classes  in  their  towns.  They  would,  perhaps,  be 
divided  between  the  genuine  representatives  of  the  arti- 
zans — ^not  possibly  of  the  best  of  the  artizans,  who  are  a 
select  and  intellectual  class,  but  of  the  common  order  of 
workpeople — and  the  merely  pretended  members  for  that 


216 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


class,  whom  I may  call  the  members  for  the  public^housesi 
In  all  big  towns  in  which  there  is  electioneering  these 
houses  are  the  centres  of  illicit  corruption  and  illicit 
management.  There  are  pretty  good  records  of  what  that 
Borruption  and  management  are,  but  there  is  no  need  to 
describe  them  here.  Everybody  will  understand  what  sort 
of  things  I mean,  and  the  kind  of  unprincipled  members 
that  are  returned  by  them.  Our  new  Parliament,  there- 
fore, would  be  made  up  of  two  sorts  of  representatives  from 
the  town  lowest  class,  and  one  sort  of  representatives  from 
the  agricultural  lowest  class.  The  genuine  representa- 
tives of  the  country  would  be  men  of  one  marked  sort,  and 
the  genuine  representatives  for  the  county  men  of  another 
marked  sort,  but  very  opposite : one  would  have  the  pre- 
judices of  town  artizans,  and  the  other  the  prejudices  of 
county  magistrates.  Each  class  would  speak  a language 
of  its  own ; each  would  be  unintelligible  to  the  other ; 
and  the  only  thriving  class  would  be  the  immoral  repre- 
sentatives, who  were  chosen  by  corrupt  machination,  and 
who  would  probably  get  a good  profit  on  the  capital  they 
laid  out  in  that  corruption.  If  it  be  true  that  a parlia- 
mentary government  is  possible  only  when  the  overwhelm- 
ing majority  of  the  representatives  are  men  essentially 
moderate,  of  no  marked  varieties,  free  from  class  preju- 
dices, this  ultra-democratic  Parliament  could  not  maintain 
that  government,  for  its  members  would  be  remarkable 
for  two  sorts  of  moral  violence  and  one  sort  of  immoral. 

I do  not  for  a moment  rank  the  scheme  of  Mr.  Hare 
with  the  scheme  of  the  ultra-democrats.  One  can  hardly 
help  having  a feeling  cf  romance  about  it.  The  world 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


217 


i<eems  growing  young  when  grave  old  lawyers  and  mature 
philosophers  propose  a scheme  promising  so  much.  It  is 
from  these  classes  that  young  men  suffer  commonly  the 
chilling  demonstration  that  their  fine  plans  are  opposed 
to  rooted  obstacles,  that  they  are  repetitions  of  other  plans 
which  failed  long  ago,  and  that  we  must  be  content  with 
the  very  moderate  results  of  tried  machinery.  But  Mr. 
Hare  and  Mr.  Mill  offer  as  the  effect  of  their  new  scheme 
results  as  large  and  improvements  as  interesting  as  a 
young  enthusiast  ever  promised  to  himself  in  his  happiest 
mood. 

I do  not  give  any  weight  to  the  supposed  impractica- 
bility of  Mr.  Hare’s  scheme  because  it  is  new.  Of  course 
it  cannot  be  put  in  practice  till  it  is  old.  A great  change 
of  this  sort  happily  cannot  be  sudden ; a free  people  can- 
not be  confused  by  new  institutions  which  they  do  not 
understand,  for  they  will  not  adopt  them  till  they  under- 
stand them.  But  if  Mr.  Hare’s  plan  would  accomplish 
what  its  friends  say,  or  half  what  they  say,  it  would  be 
worth  working  for,  if  it  were  not  adopted  till  the  year 
1966.  We  ought  incessantly  to  popularise  the  principle 
by  writing ; and,  what  is  better  than  writing,  small  preli- 
minary bits  of  experiment.  There  is  so  much  that  is 
wearisome  and  detestable  in  all  other  election  machineries, 
that  I well  understand,  and  wish  I could  share,  the  sense 
of  relief  with  which  the  believers  in  this  scheme  throw 
aside  all  their  trammels,  and  look  to  an  almost  ideal  fut  ure, 
f^hen  this  captivating  plan  is  carried. 

Mr.  Hare’s  scheme  cannot  be  satisfactorily  discussed  in 
the  elaborate  form  in  which  he  presents  it.  No  common 
15 


218 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


person  readily  appreliends  all  the  details  in  which,  with 
loving  care,  he  has  embodied  it.  He  was  so  anxious  to 
prove  what  could  be  done,  that  he  has  confused  most 
people  as  to  what  it  is.  I have  heard  a man  say,  He  never 
could  remember  it  two  days  running.”  But  the  difficulty 
which  I feel  is  fundamental,  and  wholly  independent  of 
detail. 

There  are  two  modes  in  which  constituencies  may  be 
made.  First,  the  law  may  make  them,  as  in  England 
and  almost  everywhere  : the  law  may  say  such  and  such 
qualifications  shall  give  a vote  for  constituency  X ; those 
who  have  that  qualification  shall  he  constituency  X. 
These  are  what  we  may  call  compulsory  constituencies, 
and  we  know  all  about  them.  Or,  secondly,  the  law  may 
leave  the  electors  themselves  to  make  them.  The  law 
may  say  all  the  adult  males  of  a country  shall  vote,  or 
those  males  who  can  read  and  write,  or  those  who  have 
j650  a year,  or  any  persons  any  way  defined,  and  then 
leave  those  voters  to  group  themselves  as  they  like.  Sup- 
pose there  were  658,000  voters  to  elect  the  House  of 
Commons ; it  is  possible  for  the  legislature  to  say,  We 
do  not  care  how  you  combine.  On  a given  day  let  each 
set  of  persons  give  notice  in  what  group  they  mean  to 
vote ; if  every  voter  gives  notice,  and  every  one  looks  to 
make  the  most  of  his  vote,  each  group  will  have  just 
1,000.  But  the  law  shall  not  make  this  necessary — it 
shall  take  the  658  most  numerous  groups,  no  matter 
whether  they  have  2,000,  or  1,000,  or  900,  or  800  votes — 
the  most  numerous  groups,  whatever  their  number  may 
be ; and  these  shall  be  the  constituencies  of  the  nation/ 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS 


219 


riiese  are  voluntary  constituencies,  if  I may  so  call 
them  / the  simplest  kind  of  voluntary  constituencies. 
Mr.  Hare  proposes  a far  more  complex  kind  ; but  to  show 
the  merits  and  demerits  of  the  voluntary  principle  the 
simplest  form  is  much  the  best. 

The  temptation  to  that  principle  is  very  plain.  Under 
the  compulsory  form  of  constituency  the  votes  of  the 
minorities  are  thrown  away.  In  the  city  of  London,  now, 
there  are  many  Tories,  but  all  the  members  are  Whigs  ; 
every  London  Tory,  therefore,  is  by  law  and  principle 
misrepresented : his  city  sends  to  Parliament  not  the 
member  whom  he  wished  to  have,  but  the  member  he 
wished  not  to  have.  But  upon  the  voluntary  system  the 
London  Tories,  who  are  far  more  than  1,000  in  number, 
may  combine  ; they  may  make  a constituency,  and  return 
a member.  In  many  existing  constituencies  the  disfran- 
chisement of  minorities  is  hopeless  and  chronic.  I have 
myself  had  a vote  for  an  agricultural  county  for  twenty 
years,  and  I am  a Liberal ; but  two  Tories  have  always 
been  returned,  and  all  my  life  will  be  returned.  As 
matters  now  stand,  my  vote  is  of  no  use.  But  if  I 
could  combine  with  1,000  other  Liberals  in  that  and 
other  Conservative  counties,  we  might  choose  a Liberal 
member. 

Again,  this  plan  gets  rid  of  all  our  difficulties  as  to  tue 
size  of  constituencies.  It  is  said  to  be  unreasonable  that 
Liverpool  should  return  only  the  same  number  of  members 
as  King’s  Lynn  or  Lyme  Eegis  ; but  upon  the  voluntary 
plan,  Liverpool  could  come  down  to  King’s  Lynn.  The 
Liberal  minority  in  King’s  Lynn  could  communicate 


'220  ' ; the  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 

; ! 

with  the  Liberal  minority  in  Liverpool,  and  make  up 
1,000 ; and  so  everywhere.  The  numbers  of  popular 
places  would  gain  what  is  called  their  legitimate  advan- 
tage ; they  would,  when  constituencies  are  voluntarily 
made,  be  able  to  make,  and  be  willing  to  make,  the 
greatest  number  of  constituencies. 

Again,  the  admirers  of  a great  man  could  make  a worthy 
constituency  for  him.  As  it  is,  Mr.  Mill  was  returned  by 
the  electors  of  Westminster ; and  they  have  never,  since 
they  had  members,  done  themselves  so  great  an  honour. 
But  what  did  the  electors  of  Westminster  know  of  Mr 
Mill  ? What  fraction  of  his  mind  could  be  imagined  by 
any  percentage  of  their  minds  ? A great  deal  of  his 
genius  most  of  them  would  not  like.  They  meant  to  do 
homage  to  mental  ability,  but  it  was  the  worship  of  an 
unknown  god — if  ever  there  was  such  a thing  in  this 
world.  But  upon  the  voluntary  plan,  one  thousand  out 
of  the  many  thousand  students  of  Mr.  Mill’s  book  could 
have  made  an  appreciating  constituency  for  him. 

I could  reckon  other  advantages,  but  I have  to  object 
to  the  scheme,  not  to  recommend  it.  What  are  the 
counterweights  which  overpower  these  merits?  I reply 
that  the  voluntary  composition  of  constituencies  appears 
to  me  inconsistent  with  the  necessary  pre-requisites  of 
parliamentary  government  as  they  have  been  just  laid 
down. 

Under  the  voluntary  system,  the  crisis  of  politics  is  not 
the  election  of  the  member,  but  the  making  the  constL 
tuency.  President-making  is  already  a trade  in  America  ; 
and  constituency-making  would,  under  the  voluntary 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


221 


plan,  be  a trade  here.  Every  party  would  have  a Dume- 
rical  problem  to  solve.  The  leaders  would  say,  ^‘We  have 
350,000  votes,  we  must  take  care  to  have  350  members 
and  the  only  way  to  obtain  them  is  to  organise.  A man 
who  wanted  to  compose  part  of  a liberal  constituency  must 
not  himself  hunt  for  1,000  other  Liberals ; if  he  did,  after 
writing  10,000  letters,  he  would  probably  find  he  was 
making  part  of  a constituency  of  100,  all  whose  votes 
would  be  thrown  away,  the  constituency  being  too  small 
to  be  reckoned.  Such  a Liberal  must  write  to  the  great 
Eegistration  Association  in  Parliament  Street ; he  must 
communicate  with  its  able  managers,  and  they  would  soon 
use  his  vote  for  him.  They  would  say,  Sir,  you  are  late  ; 
Mr.  Grladstone,  sir,  is  full.  He  got  his  1,000  last  year. 
Most  of  the  gentlemen  you  read  of  in  the  papers  are  full. 
As  soon  as  a gentleman  makes  a nice  speech,  we  get  a 
heap  of  letters  to  say,  ‘ Make  us  into  that  gentleman’s 
constituency.’  But  we  cannot  do  that.  Here  is  our  list. 
If  you  do  not  want  to  throw  your  vote  away,  you  must  be 
guided  by  us  : here  are  three  very  satisfactory  gentlemen 
(and  one  is  an  Honourable) : you  may  vote  for  either  of 
these,  and  we  will  write  your  name  down ; but  if  you  go 
voting  wildly,  you’ll  be  thrown  out  altogether.” 

The  evident  result  of  this  organisation  would  be  the 
return  of  party  men  mainly.  The  member-makers  would 
look,  not  for  independence,  but  for  subservience — and  they 
could  hardly  be  blamed  for  so  doing.  They  are  agents 
for  the  Liberal  party  ; and,  as  such,  they  should  be  guided 
by  what  they  take  to  be  the  wishes  of  their  principal. 
The  mass  of  the  Liberal  party  wishes  measure  A,  measure 


222 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


B,  measure  C.  The  managers  of  the  registration — the 
skilled  manipulators — are  busy  men.  They  would  say, 
Sir,  here  is  our  card  ; if  you  want  to  get  into  parliament 
on  our  side,  you  must  go  for  that  card  ; it  was  drawn  up 
by  Mr.  Lloyd ; he  used  to  be  engaged  on  railways,  but 
since  they  passed  this  new  voting  plan,  we  get  him  to 
attend  to  us  ; it  is  a sound  card ; stick  to  that  and  you 
will  be  right.”  Upon  this  (in  theory)  voluntary  plan,  you 
would  get  together  a set  of  members  bound  hard  and  fast 
with  party  bands  and  fetters,  infinitely  tighter  than  any 
members  now. 

Whoever  hopes  anything  from  desultory  popular  action 
if  matched  against  systematised  popular  action,  should 
consider  the  way  in  which  the  American  President  is 
chosen.  The  plan  was  that  the  citizens  at  large  should 
vote  for  the  statesman  they  liked  best.  But  no  one  does 
anything  of  the  sort.  They  vote  for  the  ticket  made  by 
‘‘  the  caucus,”  and  the  caucus  is  a sort  of  representative 
meeting  which  sits  voting  and  voting  till  they  have  cut 
out  all  the  known  men  against  whom  much  is  to  be  said, 
and  agreed  on  some  unknown  man  against  whom  there  is 
nothing  known,  and  therefore  nothing  to  be  alleged 
Caucuses,  or  their  equivalent,  would  be  far  worse  here  in 
constituency-making  than  there  in  President-making, 
because  on  great  occasions  the  American  nation  can  fix 
on  some  one  great  man  whom  it  knows,  but  the  English 
nation  could  not  fix  on  658  great  men  and  choose  them, 
[t  does  not  know  so  many,  and  if  it  did,  would  go  wrong 
in  the  Oifficulties  of  the  manipulation. 

Bat  tlioiigh  a common  voter  could  only  be  ranged  iv 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


223 


an  effe^Jtual  constituency,  and  a common  candidate  only 
reach  a constituency  by  obeying  the  orders  of  the  political 
election-contrivers  upon  his  side,  certain  voters  and  cer- 
tain m^bers  would  be  quite  independent  of  both.  There 
are  organisations  in  this  country  which  would  soon  make 
a set  of  constituencies  for  themselves.  Every  chapel 
would  be  an  office  for  vote  transferring  before  the  plan 
had  been  known  three  months.  The  Church  would  be 
much  slower  in  learning  it,  and  much  less  handy  in  using 
it;  but  would  learn.  At  present  the  Dissenters  are  a 
most  energetic  and  valuable  component  of  the  Liberal 
party ; but  under  the  voluntary  plan  they  would  not  be 
a component — they  would  be  a separate,  independent 
element.  We  now  propose  to  group  boroughs  ; but  then 
they  would  combine  chapels.  There  would  be  a member 
for  the  Baptist  congregation  of  Tavistock,  cum  Totnes, 
cum,  (^c.,  &c. 

The  full  force  of  this  cannot  be  appreciated  except  by 
referring  to  the  former  proof  that  the  mass  of  a Par- 
liament ought  to  be  men  of  moderate  sentiments,  or  they 
will  elect  an  immoderate  ministry,  and  enact  violent 
laws.  But  upon  the  plan  suggested,  the  House  would  be 
made  up  of  party  politicians  selected  by  a party  com- 
mittee, chained  to  that  committee  and  pledged  to  party 
violence,  and  of  characteristic,  and  therefore  immoderate 
representatives,  for  every  ism  ” in  all  England.  Instead 
of  a deliberate  assembly  of  moderate  and  judicious 
men,  we  should  have  a various  compound  of  all  sorts  of 
violence. 

I may  seem  to  be  drawing  a caricature,  but  I have  not 


224 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


reached  the  worst.  Bad  as  these  members  would  be,  if 
they  were  left  to  themselves — if,  in  a free  Parliament, 
they  were  confronted  with  the  perils  of  government,  close 
responsibility  might  improve  them  and  make  them 
tolerable.  But  they  would  not  be  left  to  themselves. 

A voluntary  constituency  will  nearly  always  be  a despotic 
constituency.  Even  in  the  best  case,  where  a set  of 
earnest  men  choose  a member  to  expound  their  earnest- 
ness, they  will  look  after  him  to  see  that  he  does  expound 
it.  The  members  will  be  like  the  minister  of  a dissenting 
congregation.  That  congregation  is  collected  by  a unity 
of  sentiment  in  doctrine  A,  and  the  preacher  is  to  preach 
doctrine  A ; if  he  does  not,  he  is  dismissed.  At  present 
the  member  is  free  because  the  constituency  is  not  in 
earnest : no  constituency  has  an  acute,  accurate  doctrinal 
creed  in  politics.  The  law  made  the  constituencies  by 
geographical  divisions ; and  they  are  not  bound  together 
by  close  unity  of  belief.  They  have  vague  preferences 
for  particular  doctrines ; and  that  is  all.  But  a voluntary 
constituency  would  be  a church  with  tenets  ; it  would 
make  its  representative  the  messenger  of  its  mandates, 
and  the  delegate  of  its  determinations.  As  in  the  case  of  1 
a dissenting  congregation,  one  great  minister  sometimes 
rules  it,  while  ninety-nine  ministers  in  the  hundred  are 
ruled  by  it,  so  here  one  noted  man  would  rule  his  electors^, 
but  the  electors  would  rule  all  the  others. 

Thus,  the  members  for  a good  voluntary  constituency 
would  be  hopelessly  enslaved,  because  of  its  goodness ; 
but  the  members  for  a bad  voluntary  constituency  would 
De  yet  more  enslaved  because  of  its  badness.  The  makers 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


225 


of  these  constituencies  would  keep  the  despotism  in  their 
own  hands.  In  America  there  is  a division  of  politicians 
into  wire-pullers  and  blowers  ; under  the  voluntary  system 
the  member  of  Parliament  would  be  the  only  momentary 
mouth-piece — the  impotent  blower;  while  the  consti- 
tuency-maker would  be  the  latent  wire-puller — the  con- 
stant autocrat.  He  would  write  to  gentlemen  in  Par- 
liament, and  say,  You  were  elected  upon  ^ the  Liberal 
ticket ; ’ if  you  deviate  from  that  ticket  you  cannot 
be  chosen  again.”  And  thepe  would  be  no  appeal  for  a 
common-minded  man.  He  is  no  more  likely  to  make  a 
constituency  for  himself  than  a mole  is  likely  to  make  a 
planet. 

It  may  indeed  be  said  that  against  a septennial  Parlia- 
ment such  machinations  would  be  powerless;  that  a 
member  elected  for  seven  years  might  defy  the  remon- 
strances of  an  earnest  constituency,  or  the  imprecations 
of  the  latent  manipulators.  But  after  the  voluntary 
composition  of  constituencies,  there  would  soon  be  but 
short-lived  Parliaments.  Earnest  constituencies  would 
exact  frequent  elections  ; they  would  not  like  to  part  with 
their  virtue  for  a long  period ; it  would  anger  them  to  see 
it  used  contrary  to  their  wishes,  amid  circumstances  which 
at  the  election  no  one  thought  of.  A seven  years’  Parlia- 
ment is  often  chosen  in  one  political  period,  lasts  through 
a second,  and  is  dissolved  in  a third.  A constituency 
collected  by  law  and  on  compulsion  endures  this  change 
because  it  has  no  collective  earnestness ; it  does  not  mind 
seeing  the  power  it  gave  used  in  a manner  that  it  could 
not  have  foreseen.  But  a self-formed  constituency  of  eagei 


226 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


opinions,  a missionary  constituency,  so  to  speak,  would 
object;  it  would  think  it  its  bounden  duty  to  object; 
and  the  crafty  manipulators,  though  they  said  nothing,  in 
silence  would  object  still  more.  The  two  together  would 
enjoin  annual  elections,  and  would  rule  their  members 
unflinchingly. 

The  voluntary  plan,  therefore,  when  tried  in  this  easy 
form,  is  inconsistent  with  the  extrinsic  independence  as 
well  as  with  the  inherent  moderation  of  a Parliament — 
two  of  the  conditions  which,"as  we  have  seen,  are  essential 
to  the  bare  possibility  of  parliamentary  government.  The 
same  objections,  as  is  inevitable,  adhere  to  that  principle 
under  its  more  complicated  forms.  It  is  in  vain  to  pile 
detail  on  detail  when  the  objection  is  one  of  flrst  prin- 
ciple. If  the  above  reasoning  be  sound,  compulsory 
constituencies  are  necessary,  voluntary  constituencies  de- 
structive; the  optional  transferability  of  votes  is  not  a 
salutary  aid,  but  a ruinous  innovation. 

I have  dwelt  upon  the  proposal  of  Mr.  Hare  and  upon 
the  ultra-democratic  proposal,  not  only  because  of  the 
high  intellectual  interest  of  the  former  and  the  possible 
practical  interest  of  the  latter,  but  because  they  tend  to 
bring  into  relief  two  at  least  of  the  necessary  conditions 
of  parliamentary  government.  But  besides  these  neces- 
sary qualities  which  are  needful  before  a parliamentary 
government  can  work  at  all,  there  are  some  additional 
pre-requisites  before  it  can  work  well.  That  a House  of 
Commons  may  work  well  it  must  perform,  as  we  saw,  five 
functions  well ; it  must  elect  a ministry  well,  legislate 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


227 


wel\^  teach  the  nation  well,  express  the  nation  s will  well, 
bring  matters  to  the  nation’s  attention  well. 

The  discussion  has  a difficulty  of  its  own.  What  is 
meant  by  “ well  ?”  Who  is  to  judge  ? Is  it  to  be  some 
panel  of  philosophers,  some  fancied  posterity,  or  some 
other  outside  authority?  I answer,  no  philosophy,  no 
posterity,  no  external  authority,  but  the  English  nation 
here  and  now. 

Free  government  is  self-government — a government  of 
the  people  by  the  people.  The  best  government  of  this  sort 
is  that  which  the  people  think  best.  An  imposed  govern- 
ment, a government  like  that  of  the  English  in  India,  may 
very  possibly  be  better;  it  may  represent  the  views  of  a 
higher  race  than  the  governed  race ; but  it  is  not  therefore 
a free  government.  A free  government  is  that  which  the 
people  subject  to  it  voluntarily  choose.  In  a casual  collec- 
tion of  loose  people  the  only  possible  free  government  is  a 
democratic  government.  Where  no  one  knows  or  cares 
for,  or  respects  any  one  else  all  must  rank  equal ; no  one’s 
opinion  can  be  more  potent  than  that  of  another.  But, 
as  has  been  explained,  a deferential  nation  has  a structure 
of  its  own.  Certain  persons  are  by  common  consent 
agreed  to  be  wiser  than  others,  and  their  opinion  is,  by 
consent,  to  rank  for  much  more  tlian  its  numerical  value. 
We  may  in  these  happy  nations  weigh  votes  as  well  as 
count  them,  though  in  less  favoured  countries  we  can 
count  only.  But  in  free  nations,  the  votes  so  weighed  or 
so  counted  must  decide.  A perfect  free  government  is 
me  which  decides  perfectly  according  to  those  votes ; an 


228 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


imperfect,  one  which  so  decides  imperfectly ; a had,  one 
which  does  not  so  decide  at  all.  j Public  opinion  is  the 
test  of  this  polity ; the  best  opinion  which,  with  its 
existing  habits  of  deference,  the  nation  will  accept : if 
the  free  government  goes  by  that  opinion,  it  is  a good 
government  of  its  species ; if  it  contravenes  that  opinion, 
it  is  a bad  one. 

Tried  by  this  rule  the  House  of  Commons  does  its 
V appointing  business  well.  It  chooses  rulers  as  we  wish 
rulers  to  be  chosen.  If  it  did  not,  in  a speaking  and 
writing  age  we  should  soon  know.  I have  heard  a 
great  Liberal  statesman  say,  The  time  was  coming 
when  we  must  advertise  for  a grievance.”  * What  a 
good  grievance  it  would  be  were  the  ministry  appointed 
and  retained  by  the  Parliament  a ministry  detested  by 
the  nation.  An  anti-present  government  league  would 
be  instantly  created,  and  it  would  be  more  instantly 
powerful  and  more  instantly  successful  than  the  Anti- 
Corn  Law  League. 

It  has,  indeed,  been  objected  that  the  choosing  business 
of  Parliament  is  done  ill,  because  it  does  not  choose  strong 
governments.  And  it  is  certain  that  when  public  opinion 
does  not  definitely  decide  upon  a marked  policy,  and  when 
in  consequence  parties  in  the  Parliament  are  nearly  even, 
individual  cupidity  and  changeability  may  make  Parlia- 
ment change  its  appointees  too  often ; may  induce  them 
never  enough  to  trust  any  of  them ; may  make  it  keep  all 
of  them  under  a suspended  sentence  of  coming  dismissal 
But  the  experience  of  Lord  Palmerston’s  second  Govern- 


* This  was  said  in  1858. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


229 


ment  proves,  I think,  that  these  fears  are  exaggerated. 
When  the  choice  of  a nation  is  really  fixed  on  a statesman, 
Parlimient  will  fix  upon  him  too.  The  parties  in  the 
Parliament  of  1859  were  as  nearly  divided  as  in  any  pro- 
bable Parliament ; a great  many  Liberals  did  not  much 
like  Lord  Palmerston,  and  they  would  have  gladly  co- 
operated in  an  attempt  to  dethrone  him.  But  the  same 
infiuence  acted  on  Parliament  within  which  acted  on  the 
nation  without.  The  moderate  men  of  both  parties  were 
satisfied  that  Lord  Palmerston’s  was  the  best  government, 
and  they  therefore  preserved  it  though  it  was  hated  by 
the  immoderate  on  both  sides.  We  have  then  found  by 
a critical  instance  that  a government  supported  by  what 
I may  call  “ the  common  element,” — by  the  like-minded 
men  of  unlike  parties, — will  be  retained  in  power,  though 
parties  are  even,  and  though,  as  Treasury  counting 
reckons,  the  majority  is  imperceptible.  If  happily,  by  its 
intelligence  and  attractiveness,  a cabinet  can  gain  a hold 
upon  the  great  middle  part  of  Parliament,  it  will  continue 
to  exist  notwithstanding  the  hatching  of  small  plots  and 
the  machinations  of  mean  factions. 

On  the  whole,  I think  it  indisputable  that  the  selecting 
task  of  Parliament  is  performed  as  well  as  public  opinion 
wishes  it  to  be  performed ; and  if  we  want  to  improve 
that  standard,  we  must  first  improve  the  English  nation, 
which  imposes  that  standard.  Of  the  substantial  part  of 
its  legislative  task  the  same,  too,  may  I think,  be  said. 
The  manner  of  our  legislation  is  indeed  detestable,  and 
the  machinery  for  settling  that  manner  odious.  A com- 
mittee of  the  whole  House,  dealing,  or  attempting  to  deal, 


230 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


with  the  elaborate  clauses  of  a long  Bill,  is  a wretched 
specimen  of  severe  but  misplaced  labour.  It  is  sure  to 
wedge  some  clause  into  the  Act,  such  as  that  which  the 
judge  said  seemed  to  have  fallen  by  itself, from 
heaven,  into  the  mind  of  the  legislature,”  so  little  had  it 
to  do  with  anything  on  either  side  or  around  it.  At  such 
times  government  by  a public  meeting  displays  its  in- 
herent defects,  and  is  little  restrained  by  its  necessary 
checks.  But  the  essence  of  our  legislature  may  be  sepa- 
rated from  its  accidents.  Subject  to  two  considerable 
defects  I think  Parliament  passes  laws  as  the  nation  wishes 
to  have  them  passed. 

Thirty  years  ago  this  was  not  so.  The  nation  had  out- 
grown its  institutions,  and  was  cramped  by  them.  It  was 
a man  in  the  clothes  of  a boy ; every  limb  wanted  more 
room,  and  every  garment  to  be  fresh  made.  D-mn  me,” 
said  Lord  Eldon  in  the  dialect  of  his  age,  if  I had  to 
begin  life  again  I would  begin  as  an  agitator.”  The 
shrewd  old  man  saw  that  the  best  life  was  that  of  a mis- 
cellaneous objector  to  the  old  world,  though  he  loved  that 
world,  believed  in  it,  could  imagine  no  other.  But  he 
would  not  say  so  now.  There  is  no  worse  trade  than  agita- 
tion at  this  time.  A man  can  hardly  get  an  audience 
if  he  wishes  to  complain  of  anything.  Now-a-days,  not 
only  does  the  mind  and  policy  of  Parliament  (subject  to 
the  exceptions  before  named)  possess  the  common  sort  of 
moderation  essential  to  the  possibility  of  parliamentarj 
government,  but  also  that  exact  gradation,  that  precise 
species  of  moderation,  most  agreeable  to  the  nation  at 
large.  Not  only  does  the  nation  endure  a parliamentary 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


231 


government,  which  it  would  not  do  if  Parliament  were 
immoderate,  but  it  likes  parliamentary  government.  A 
sense  of  satisfaction  permeates  the  country  because  most 
of  the  country  feels  it  has  got  the  precise  thing  that 
suits  it. 

The  exceptions  are  two.  First.  That  Parliament  leans 
too  much  to  the  opinions  of  the  landed  interest.  The 
Cattle  Plague  Act  is  a conspicuous  instance  of  this  defect. 
The  details  of  that  Bill  may  be  good  or  bad,  and  its  policy 
wise  or  foolish.  But  the  manner  in  which  it  was  hurried 
through  the  House  savoured  of  despotism.  The  cotton 
trade  or  the  wine  trade  could  not,  in  their  maximum  of 
peril,  have  obtained  such  aid  in  such  a manner.  The 
House  of  Commons  would  hear  of  no  pause  and  would  heed 
no  arguments.  The  greatest  number  of  them  feared  for 
their  incomes.  The  land  of  England  returns  many  mem- 
bers annually  for  the  counties  ; these  members  the  con- 
stitution gave  them.  But  what  is  curious  is  that  the 
landed  interest  gives  no  seats  to  other  classes,  but  takes 
plenty  of  seats  from  other  classes.  Half  the  boroughs  in 
England  are  represented  by  considerable  landowners,  and 
when  rent  is  in  question,  as  in  the  cattle  case,  they  think 
more  of  themselves  than  of  those  who  sent  them.  In 
number  the  landed  gentry  in  the  House  far  surpass  any 
other  class.  They  have,  too,  a more  intimate  connection 
with  one  another ; they  were  educated  at  the  same  schools  ; 
know  one  another’s  family  name  from  boyhood ; form  a 
society ; are  the  same  kind  of  men ; marry  the  same  kind 
of  women.  The  merchants  and  manufacturers  in  Parlia- 
ment are  a motley  race — one  educated  here,  another  there, 


232 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


a third  not  educated  at  all ; some  are  of  the  second  gene- 
ration of  traders,  who  consider  self-made  men  intruders 
upon  an  hereditary  place;  others  are  self-made,  and 
regard  the  men  of  inherited  wealth,  which  they  did  not 
make  and  do  not  augment,  as  beings  of  neither  mind  nor 
place,  inferior  to  themselves  because  they  have  no  brains, 
and  inferior  to  lords  because  they  have  no  rank.  Traders 
have  no  bond  of  union,  no  habits  of  intercourse;  their 
wives,  if  they  care  for  society,  want  to  see  not  the  wives  of 
other  such  men,  but  “ better  people,”  as  they  say — the 
wives  of  men  certainly  with  land,  and,  if  Heaven  help, 
with  the  titles.  Men  who  study  the  structure  of  Parlia- 
ment, not  in  abstract  books,  but  in  the  concrete  London 
world,  wonder  not  that  the  landed  interest  is  very  power- 
ful, but  that  it  is  not  despotic.  I believe  it  would  be 
despotic  if  it  were  clever,  or  rather  if  its  representatives 
were  so,  but  it  has  a fixed  device  to  make  them  stupid. 
The  counties  not  only  elect  landowners,  which  is  natural, 
and  perhaps  wise,  but  also  elect  only  landowners  of  their 
own  county^  which  is  absurd.  There  is  no  free  trade  in 
the  agricultural  mind ; each  county  prohibits  the  import 
of  able  men  from  other  counties.  This  is  why  eloquent 
sceptics — Bolingbroke  and  Disraeli — have  been  so  apt  to 
lead  the  unsceptical  Tories.  They  will  have  people  with 
a great  piece  of  land  in  a particular  spot,  and  of  course 
these  people  generally  cannot  speak,  and  often  cannot 
think.  And  so  eloquent  men  who  laugh  at  the  party  come 
to  lead  the  party.  The  landed  interest  has  much  more 
influence  than  it  should  have  ; but  it  wastes  that  influence 
wy  much  that  the  excess  is,  except  on  singular  occurrences 
(like  the  cattle  plasrueV  of  seonndary  moment. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


233 


It  is  almost  another  side  of  the  same  matter  to  say  thr:t 
the  structure  of  Parliament  gives  too  little  weight  to  the 
growing  districts  of  the  countiy  and  too  much  to  the 
stationary.  ^ In  old  times  the  south  of  England  was  not 
only  the  pleasantest  but  the  greatest  part  of  England. 
Devonshire  was  a great  maritime  county  when  the  foun- 
dations of  our  representation  were  fixed;  Somersetshire 
and  Wiltshire  great  manufacturing  counties.  The  harsher 
climate  of  the  northern  counties  was  associated  with  a 
ruder,  a sterner,  and  a sparser  people.  The  immense  pre- 
ponderance which  our  Parliament  gave  before  1832,  and, 
though  pruned  and  mitigated,  still  gives  to  England  south 
of  the  Trent,  then  corresponded  to  a real  preponderance 
in  wealth  and  mind.  How  opposite  the  present  contrast 
is  we  all  know.  And  the  case  gets  worse  every  day.  The 
nature  of  modern  trade  is  to  give  to  those  who  have  much 
and  take  from  those  who  have  little.  Manufacture  goes 
where  manufacture  is,  because  there  and  there  alone  it 
finds  attendant  and  auxiliary  manufacture.  Every  railway 
takes  trade  from  the  little  town  to  the  big  town,  because 
it  enables  the  customer  to  buy  in  the  big  town.  Year  by 
year  the  North  (as  we  may  roughly  call  the  new  industrial 
world)  gets  more  important,  and  the  South  (as  we  may 
call  the  pleasant  remnant  of  old  times)  gets  less  important. 
It  is  a grave  objection  to  our  existing  parliamentary  con- 
stitution that  it  gives  much  power  to  regions  of  past 
greatness,  and  refuses  equal  power  to  regions  of  present 
greatness. 

I think  (though  it  is  not  a popular  notion)  that  by  far 
the  greater  part  of  the  cry  for  parliamentary  reform  is  due 
to  this  inequality.  The  great  capitalists,  Mr.  Bright  and 
iG 


234 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


his  friends,  believe  they  are  sincere  in  asking  for  more 
power  for  t he  working  man,  but,  in  fact,  they  very  natu- 
rally and  very  properly  want  more  power  for  themselves. 
They  cannot  endure — they  ought  not  to  endure — that  a 
rich,  able  manufacturer  should  be  a less  man  than  a small, 
stupid  squire.  The  notions  of  political  equality  which 
Mr.  Bright  puts  forward  are  as  old  as  political  speculation, 
and  have  been  refuted  by  the  first  efforts  of  that  specula- 
tion. But  for  all  that  they  are  likely  to  last  as  long  as 
political  society,  because  they  are  based  upon  indelible 
principles  in  human  nature.  Edmund  Burke  called  the 
first  East  Indians,  Jacobins  to  a man,”  because  they  did 
not  feel  their  ‘^present  importance  equal  to  their  real 
wealth.”  So  long  as  there  is  an  uneasy  class,  a class  which 
has  not  its  just  power,  it  will  rashly  clutch  and  blindly 
believe  the  notion  that  all  men  should  have  the  same 
power. 

I do  not  consider  the  exclusion  of  the  working  classes 
from  effectual  representation  a defect  in  this  aspect  of 
our  parliamentary  representation.  The  working  classes 
contribute  almost  nothing  to  our  corporate  public  opinion, 
and  therefore,  the  fact  of  their  want  of  influence  in  Par- 
liament does  not  impair  the  coincidence  of  Parliament 
with  public  opinion.  They  are  left  out  in  the  representa- 
tion, and  also  in  the  thing  represented. 

Nor  do  I think  the  number  of  persons  of  aristocratic 
descent  in  Parliament  impairs  the  accordance  of  Par- 
liament with  public  opinion.  No  doubt  the  direct  de- 
scendants and  collateral  relatives  of  noble  families  supply 
members  to  Parliament  in  far  greater  proportion  than  is 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


235 


rarranted  by  the  number  of  such  families  in  compaiison 
with  the  whole  nation.  But  I do  not  believe  that  thesa 
families  have  the  least  corporate  character,  or  any  common 
opinions,  different  from  others  of  the  landed  gentry.. 
They  have  the  opinions  of  the  propertied  rank  in  which 
they  were  born.  The  English  aristocracy  have  never  been 
a caste  apart,  and  are  not  a caste  apart  now.  They  would 
keep  up  nothing  that  other  landed  gentlemen  would  not. 
And  if  any  landed  gentlemen  are  to  be  sent  to  the  House 
of  Commons,  it  is  desirable  that  many  should  be  men  of 
some  rank.  As  long  as  we  keep  up  a double  set  of  insti- 
tutions,— one  dignified  and  intended  to  impress  the  many, 
the  other  efficient  and  intended  to  govern  the  many, — we 
should  take  care  that  the  two  match  nicely,  and  hide 
where  the  one  begins  and  where  the  other  ends.  This  is 
in  part  effected  by  conceding  some  subordinate  power  to 
the  august  part  of  our  polity,  but  it  is  equally  aided  by 
keeping  an  aristocratic  element  in  the  useful  part  of  our 
polity.  In  truth,  the  deferential  instinct  secures  both. 
Aristocracy  is  a power  in  the  ^ constituencies.’  A man 
who  is  an  honourable  or  a baronet,  or  better  yet,  perhaps, 
a real  earl,  though  Irish,  is  coveted  by  half  the  electing 
bodies  ; and,  cceteris  paribus^  a manufacturer’s  son  has  no 
chance  with  him.  The  reality  of  the  deferential  feeling 
in  the  community  is  tested  by  the  actual  election  of  the 
class  deferred  to,  where  there  is  a large  free  choice  be- 
twixt it  and  others. 

Subject  therefore  to  the  two  minor,  but  still  not  incon- 
siderable, defects  I have  named.  Parliament  conforms  itself 
accurately  enough,  both  as  a chooser  of  executives  and  aa 


236 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


a legislature,  to  the  formed  opinion  of  the  country. 
Similarly,  and  subject  to  the  same  exceptions,  it  expresses 
the  nation’s  opinion  in  words  well,  when  it  happens  that 
words,  not  laws,  are  wanted.  On  foreign  matters,  where 
we  cannot  legislate,  whatever  the  English  nation  thinks, 
or  thinks  it  thinks,  as  to  the  critical  events  of  the  world, 
whether  in  Denmark,  in  Italy,  or  America,  and  no  matter 
whether  it  thinks  wisely  or  unwisely,  that  same  something, 
wise  or  unwise,  will  be  thoroughly  well  said  in  Parliament. 
The  lyrical  function  of  Parliament,  if  I may  use  such  a 
phrase,  is  well  done  ; it  pours  out  in  characteristic  words 
the  characteristic  heart  of  the  nation.  And  it  can  do  little 
more  useful.  Now  that  free  government  is  in  Europe  so 
rare  and  in  America  so  distant,  the  opinion,  even  the  in- 
complete, erroneous,  rapid  opinion  of  the  free  English 
people  is  invaluable.  It  may  be  very  wrong,  but  it  is 
sure  to  be  unique ; and  if  it  is  right  it  is  sure  to  contain 
matter  of  great  magnitude,  for  it  is  only  a first-class 
matter  in  distant  things  which  a free  people  ever  sees  or 
learns.  The  English  people  must  miss  a thousand  minutiae 
that  continental  bureaucracies  know  even  too  well ; but  if 
they  see  a cardinal  truth  which  those  bureaucracies  miss, 
that  cardinal  truth  may  greatly  help  the  world. 

But  if  in  these  ways,  and  subject  to  these  exceptions.  Par- 
liament by  its  policy  and  its  speech  well  embodies  and 
expresses  public  opinion,  I own  I think  it  must  be  con- 
ceded that  it  is  not  equally  successful  in  elevating  public 
opinion.  The  teaching  task  of  Parliament  is  the  task  it 
does  worst.  Probably  at  this  moment  it  is  natural  to  ex- 
aggerate this  defect.  Tue  greatest  teacher  of  all  in  Par- 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


237 


li ament,  the  head-master  of  the  nation,  the  great 
elevator  of  the  country — so  far  as  Parliament  elevates  it 
— must  be  the  Prime  Minister ; he  has  an  influence,  an 
authority,  a facility  in  giving  a great  tone  to  discussion, 
or  a mean  tone,  which  no  other  man  has.  Now  Lord  Pal- 
merston for  many  years  steadily  applied  his  mind  to  giving, 
not  indeed  a mean  tone,  but  a light  tone,  to  the  proceed- 
ings of  Parliament.  One  of  his  greatest  admirers  has 
since  his  death  told  a story  of  which  he  scarcely  sees,  or 
seems  to  see,  the  full  effect.  When  Lord  Palmerston  was 
first  made  leader  of  the  House,  his  jaunty  manner  was 
not  at  all  popular,  and  some  predicted  failure.  “ No,” 
said  an  old  member,  “ he  will  soon  educate  us  down  to  his 
level ; the  House  will  soon  prefer  this  Ha ! Ha ! style  to 
the  wit  of  Canning  and  the  gravity  of  Peel.”  I am  afraid 
that  we  must  own  that  the  prophecy  was  accomplished. 
No  prime  minister,  so  popular  and  so  influential,  has  ever 
left  in  the  public  memory  so  little  noble  teaching. 
Twenty  years  hence,  when  men  inquire  as  to  the  then 
fading  memory  of  Palmerston,  we  shall  be  able  to  point 
to  no  great  truth  which  he  taught,  no  great  distinct  policy 
which  he  embodied,  no  noble  words  which  once  fascinated 
his  age,  and  which,  in  after  years,  men  would  not  willingly 
let  die.  But  we  shall  be  able  to  say  “ he  had  a genia*! 
manner,  a firm,  sound  sense  ; he  had  a kind  of  cant  of 
insincerity,  but  we  always  knew  what  he  meant ; he  had 
the  brain  of  a ruler  in  the  clothes  of  a man  of  fashion.” 
Posterity  will  hardly  understand  the  words  of  the  aged 
reminiscent,  but  we  now  feel  their  effect.  The  House  of 
Commons,  since  it  caught  its  tone  from  such  a statesman, 


288 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


has  taught  the  nation  worse,  and  elevated  it  less,  than 
usual. 

I think,  however,  that  a correct  observer  would  decide 
that  in  general,  and  on  principle,  the  House  of  Commons 
does  not  teach  the  public  as  much  as  it  might  teach  it, 
or  as  the  public  would  wish  to  learn.  I do  not  wish  very 
abstract,  very  philosophical,  very  hard  matters  to  be  stated 
in  Parliament.  The  teaching  there  given  must  be  popular, 
and  to  be  popular  it  must  be  concrete,  embodied,  short. 
The  problem  is  to  know  the  highest  truth  which  the 
people  will  bear,  and  to  inculcate  and  preach  that. 
Certainly  Lord  Palmerston  did  not  preach  it.  He  a 
little  degraded  us  by  preaching  a doctrine  just  below  our 
o wn  standard  ; — a doctrine  not  enough  below  us  to  repel 
us  much,  but  yet  enough  below  to  harm  us  by  augment- 
ing a woiidliness  which  needed  no  addition,  and  by 
diminishing  a love  of  principle  and  philosophy  which  did 
not  want  deduction. 

In  comparison  with  the  debates  of  any  other  assembly, 
^it  is  true  the  debates  by  the  English  Parliament  are  most 
instructive^  j The  debates  in  the  American  Congress  have 
little  teaching  efficacy;  it  is  the  characteristic  vice  of 
Presidential  Government  to  deprive  them  of  that  efficacy ; 
in  that  government  a debate  in  the  legislature  has  little 
effect,  for  it  cannot  turn  out  the  executive,  and  the  exe- 
cutive can  veto  all  it  decides.’  The  French  Chambers* 
are  suitable  appendages  to  an  Empire  which  desires  the 
power  of  despotism  without  its  shame  ; they  prevent  the 
enemies  of  the  Empire  being  quite  correct  when  they  say 
^ This  of  course  relates  to  the  assemblies  of  the  Empire. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


239 


there  is  no  free  speech  : a few  permitted  objectors  fill  the 
air  with  eloquence,  which  every  one  knows  to  be  often 
true,  and  always  vain.  The  debates  in  an  English  Par- 
liament fill  a space  in  the  world  which,  in  these  auxiliary 
chambers,  is  not  possible.  But  I think  any  one  who  com- 
pares the  discussions  on  great  questions  in  the  higher  part 
of  the  press,  with  the  discussions  in  Parliament,  will  feel 
that  there  is  (of  course  amid  much  exaggeration  and 
vagueness)  a greater  vigour  and  a higher  meaning  in  the 
writing  than  in  the  speech  ; a vigour  which  the  public 
appreciate — a meaning  that  they  like  to  hear. 

The  Saturday  Revieiu  said,  some  years  since,  that  the 
ability  of  Parliament  was  a “ protected  ability that 
there  was  at  the  door  a differential  duty  of  at  least  2,000Z. 
a year.  Accordingly  the  House  of  Commons,  represent- 
ing only  mind  coupled  with  property,  is  not  equal  in  mind 
to  a legislature  chosen  for  mind  only,  and  whether  accom- 
panied by  wealth  or  not.  But  I do  not  for  a moment 
wish  to  see  a representation  of  pure  mind ; it  would  be 
contrary  to  the  main  thesis  of  this  essay.  I maintain  that 
Parliament  ought  to  embody  the  public  opinion  of  the 
English  nation  ; and,  certainly,  that  opinion  is  much  more 
fixed  by  its  property  than  by  its  mind.  The  too  clever 
by  half”  people,  who  live  in  “Bohemia,”  ought  to  have 
no  more  influence  in  Parliament  than  they  have  in 
England,  and  they  can  scarcely  have  less.  Only,  after 
every  great  abatement  and  deduction,  I think  the  country 
would  bear  a little  more  mind  ; and  that  there  is  a profu- 
sion of  opulent  dulness  in  Parliament  which  might  a little 
— though  only  a little — be  pruned  away. 


240 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


The  only  function  of  Parliament  which  remains  to  be 
considered  is  the  informing  function,  as  I just  now  called 
it : the  function  which  belongs  to  it,  or  to  members  of  it^ 
to  bring  before  the  nation  the  ideas,  grievances,  and  wishes 
of  special  classes.  This  must  not  be  confounded  with 
what  I have  called  its  teaching  function.  In  life,  no 
doubt,  the  two  run  one  into  another.  But  so  do  many 
things  which  it  is  very  important  in  definition  to  separate. 
The  fact  of  two  things  being  often  found  together  is 
rather  a reason  for,  than  an  objection  to,  separating  them 
in  idea.  Sometimes  they  are  not  found  together,  and 
then  we  may  be  puzzled  if  we  have  not  trained  ourselves 
to  separate  them.  The  teaching  function  brings  true 
ideas  before  the  nation,  and  is  the  function  of  its  high- 
est minds.  The  expressive  function  brings  only  special 
ideas,  and  is  the  function  of  but  special  minds. 
Each  class  has  its  ideas,  wants,  and  notions ; and  certain 
brains  are  ingrained  with  them.  Such  sectarian  concep- 
tions are  not  those  by  which  a determining  nation  should 
regulate  its  action,  nor  are  orators,  mainly  animated  by 
such  conceptions,  safe  guides  in  policy.  But  those  orators 
should  be  heard ; those  conceptions  should  be  kept  in 
sight.  The  great  maxim  of  modern  thought  is  not  only 
the  toleration  of  everything,  but  the  examination  of 
everything.  It  is  by  examining  very  bare,  very  dull,  very 
unpromising  things,  that  modern  science  has  come  to  be 
what  it  is.  There  is  a story  of  a great  chemist  who  said 
he  owed  half  his  fame  to  his  habit  of  examining,  after 
his  experiments,  what  was  going  to  be  thrown  away^ 
everybody  knew  the  result  of  the  experiment  itself,  but 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


241* 


in  the  refuse  matter  there  were  many  little  facts  and  un- 
known changes,  which  suggested  the  discoveries  of  a 
famous  life  to  a person  capable  of  looking  for  them. 
So  with  the  special  notions  of  neglected  classes.  They 
may  contain  elements  of  truth  which  though  small,  are 
the  very  elements  which  we  now  require,  because  we 
already  know  all  the  rest. 

This  doctrine  was  well  known  to  our  ancestors.  They 
laboured  to  give  a character  to  the  various  constituencies, 
or  to  many  of  them.  They  wished  that  the  shipping 
trade,  the  wool  trade,  the  linen  trade,  should  each  have 
their  spokesman : that  the  unsectional  Parliament  should 
know  what  each  section  in  the  nation  thought  before  it 
gave  the  national  decision.  This  is  the  true  reason  for 
admitting  the  working  classes  to  a share  in  the  repre- 
sentation, at  least  as  far  as  the  composition  of  Parliament 
is  to  be  improved  by  that  admission.  A great  many  ideas, 
a great  many  feelings  have  gathered  among  the  town 
artizans — a peculiar  intellectual  life  has  sprung  up  among 
them.  They  believe  that  they  have  interests  which  are 
misconceived  or  neglected;  that  they  know  something 
which  others  do  not  know  ; that  the  thoughts  of  Parliament 
are  not  as  their  thoughts.  They  ought  to  be  allowed  to 
try  to  convince  Parliament ; their  notions  ought  to  be 
stated  as  those  of  other  classes  are  stated  ; their  advocates 
should  be  heard  as  other  people’s  advocates  are  heard. 
Before  the  Reform  Bill,  there  was  a recognised  machinery 
for  that  purpose.  The  member  for  Westminster,  and 
other  members,  were  elected  by  universal  suffrage  (or 
what  was  in  substance  such)  ; those  members  did,  in  their 


242 


THE  EIS^GLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


day,  state  what  were  the  grievances  and  ideas — or  were 
thought  to  be  the  grievances  and  ideas — of  the  working 
classes.  It  was  the  single,  unbending  franchise  introduced 
in  1832  that  has  caused  this  difficulty,  as  it  has  others 
Until  such  a change  is  made  the  House  of  Commons 
will  be  defective,  just  as  the  House  of  Lords  was  defective 
It  will  not  look  right.  As  long  as  the  Lords  do  not  come 
to  their  own  House,  we  may  prove  on  paper  that  it  is  a 
good  revising  chamber,  but  it  will  be  difficult  to  make  the 
literary  argument  felt.  Just  so,  as  long  as  a great  class, 
congregated  in  political  localities,  and  known  to  have 
political  thoughts  and  wishes,  is  without  notorious  and 
palpable  advocates  in  Parliament,  we  may  prove  on  paper 
that  our  representation  is  adequate,  but  the  world  will  not 
believe  it.  There  is  a saying  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
that  in  politics  gross  appearances  are  great  realities.” 
It  is  in  vain  to  demonstrate  that  the  working  classes  have 
no  grievances ; that  the  middle  classes  have  done  all  that 
is  possible  for  them,  and  so  on  with  a crowd  of  arguments 
which  I need  not  repeat,  for  the  newspapers  keep  them 
in  type,  and  we  can  say  them  by  heart.  But  so  long  as 
the  gross  appearance  ” is  that  there  are  no  evident,  inces- 
sant representatives  to  speak  the  wants  of  artizans,  the 
great  reality  ” will  be  a diffused  dissatisfaction.  Thirty 
years  ago  it  was  vain  to  prove  that  Gatton  and  Old 
Sarum  were  valuable  seats,  and  sent  good  members. 
Everybody  said,  “ Why,  there  are  no  people  there.”  Just 
so  everybody  must  say  now,  Our  representative  system 
must  be  imperfect,  for  an  immense  class  has  no  members 
bo  speak  for  it.”  The  only  answer  to  the  cry  agaiust  cou- 


THE  HOUSE  OF  COMMONS. 


243 


etituencies  without  inhabitants  was  to  transfer  their  power 
to  constituencies  with  inhabitants.  Just  so,  the  way  to 
fltop  the  complaint  that  artizans  have  no  members  is  to 
give  them  members, — to  create  a body  of  representatives, 
chosen  by  artizans,  believing,  as  Mr.  Carlyle  would  eay, 
‘‘  that  artizanism  is  the  one  thing  needful.” 


VII 

ON  CHANGES  OF  MINISTRY. 

There  is  one  error  as  to  the  English  Constitution  which 
crops-up  periodically.  Circumstances  which  often,  tnough 
irregularly,  occur  naturally  suggest  that  error,  and  as 
surely  as  they  happen  it  revives.  The  relation  of  Parlia- 
ment, and  especially  of  the  House  of  Commons,  to  the 
Executive  Grovernment  is  the  specific  peculiarity  of  our 
constitution,  and  an  event  which  frequently  happens  much 
puzzles  some  people  as  to  it. 

That  event  is  a change  of  ministry.  All  our  adminis- 
trators go  out  together.  The  whole  executive  govern- 
ment changes — at  least,  all  the  heads  of  it  change  in  a 
body,  and  at  every  such  change  some  speculators  are  sure 
to  exclaim  that  such  a habit  is  foolish.  They  say,  ‘ No 
doubt  Mr.  Gladstone  and  Lord  Eussell  may  have  been 
wrong  about  Eeform  ; no  doubt  Mr.  Gladstone  may  have 
been  cross  in  the  House  of  Commons  ; but  why  should 
either  or  both  of  these  events  change  all  the  heads  of  all 
our  practical  departments  ? What  could  be  more  absurd 
than  what  happened  in  1858  ? Lord  Palmerston  was  for 
once  in  his  life  over-buoyant ; he  gave  rude  answers  to 
•stupid  inquiries  ; he  brought  into  the  Cabinet  a nobleman 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTRY. 


245 


concerned  in  an  ugly  trial  about  a woman  ; he,  or  his 
Foreign  Secretary,  did  not  answer  a French  despatch  by 
a despatch,  but  told  our  ambassador  to  reply  orally.  And 
because  of  these  trifles,  or  at  any  rate,  these  isolated  un-- 
administrative  mistakes,  all  our  administration  had  fresh 
heads.  The  Poor  Law  Board  had  a new  chief,  the  Home 
Department  a new  chief,  the  Public  Works  a new  chief. 
Surely  this  was  absurd.”  Now,  is  this  objection  good  or 
bad  ? Speaking  generally,  is  it  wise  so  to  change  all  our 
rulers  ? 

The  practice  produces  three  great  evils.  First,  it  brings 
in  on  a sudden  new  persons  and  untried  persons  to  preside 
over  our  policy.  A little  while  ago  Lord  Cranborne"^ 
had  no  more  idea  that  he  would  now  be  Indian  Secretary 
than  that  he  would  be  a bill  broker.  He  had  never  given 
any  attention  to  Indian  affairs;  he  can  get  them  up, 
because  he  is  an  able  educated  man  who  can  get  up  any- 
thing. But  they  are  not  part  and  parcel  ” of  his  mind  ; 
not  his  subjects  of  familiar  reflection,  nor  things  of  which 
he  thinks  by  predilection,  of  which  he  cannot  help  think- 
ing. But  because  Lord  Eussell  and  Mr.  Gladstone  did 
not  please  the  House  of  Commons  about  Reform,  there  he 
is.  A perfectly  inexperienced  man,  so  far  as  Indian  affairs 
go,  rules  all  our  Indian  empire.  And  if  all  our  heads  of 
offices  change  together,  so  very  frequently  it  must  be.  If 
twenty  offices  are  vacant  at  once,  there  are  almost  never 
twenty  tried,  competent,  clever  men  ready  to  take  them. 
The  difficulty  of  making  up  a government  is  very  much 

♦ Now  Lord  Salisbury,  who,  when  this  was  written  was  Indian  Secretaij 
to  second  •dition. 


246 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


like  the  difficulty  of  putting  together  a Chinese  puzzle : 
the  spaces  do  not  suit  what  you  have  to  put  into  them. 
And  the  difficulty  of  matching  a ministry  is  more  than 
that  of  fitting  a puzzle,  because  the  ministers  to  be  put 
in  can  object,  though  the  bits  of  a puzzle  cannot.  One 
objector  can  throw  out  the  combination.  In  1847  Lord 
Grrey  would  not  join  Lord  John  Eussell’s  projected  govern- 
ment if  Lord  Palmerston  was  to  be  Foreign  Secretary  ; 
Lord  Palmerston  would  be  Foreign  Secretary,  and  so  the 
government  was  not  formed.  The  cases  in  which  a single 
refusal  prevents  a government  are  rare,  and  there  must 
be  many  concurrent  circumstances  to  make  it  effectual. 
But  the  cases  in  which  refusals  impair  or  spoil  a govern- 
ment are  very  common.  It  almost  never  happens  that  the 
ministry-maker  can  put  into  his  offices  exactly  whom  he 
would  like ; a number  of  placemen  are  always  too  proud, 
too  eager,  or  too  obstinate  to  go  just  where  they  should. 

Again,  this  system  not  only  makes  new  ministers  igno- 
rant, but  keeps  present  ministers  indifferent.  A man 
cannot  feel  the  same  interest  that  he  might  in  his  work 
if  he  knows  that  by  events  over  which  he  has  no  control, 
— by  errors  in  which  he  had  no  share, — by  metamorphoses 
of  opinion  which  belong  to  a different  sequence  of  pheno- 
mena, he  may  have  to  leave  that  work  in  the  middle,  and 
may  very  likely  never  return  to  it.  The  new  man  put 
into  a fresh  office  ought  to  have  the  best  motive  to  learn 
his  task  thoroughly,  but,  in  fact,  in  England,  he  has  not 
at  all  the  best  motive.  The  last  wave  of  party  and  poli- 
tics brought  him  there,  the  next  may  take  him  away. 
Young  and  eager  men  take,  even  at  this  disadvantage,  a 


CHANGES  OP  MINISTRY. 


247 


keen  interest  in  office  work,  but  most  men^  especially  old 
men,  hardly  do  so.  Many  a battered  ministc  r may  be 
seen  to  think  much  more  of  the  vicissitudes  which  make 
him  and  unmake  him,  than  of  any  office  matter. 

Lastly,  a sudden  change  of  ministers  may  easily  cause 
a mischievous  change  of  policy.  In  many  matters  of 
business,  perhaps  in  most,  a continuity  of  mediocrity  is 
better  than  a hotch-potch  of  excellences.  For  example, 
now  that  progress  in  the  scientific  arts  is  revolutionising 
the  instruments  of  war,  rapid  changes  in  our  head-pre- 
parers  for  land  and  sea  war  are  most  costly  and  most 
hurtful.  A single  competent  selector  of  new  inventions 
would  probably  in  the  course  of  years,  after  some  expe- 
rience, arrive  at  something  tolerable  ; it  is  in  the  nature 
of  steady,  regular,  experimenting  ability  to  diminish,  if 
not  vanquish,  such  difficulties.  But  a quick  succession  of 
chiefs  has  no  similar  facility.  They  do  not  learn  from 
each  others’  experience ; — you  might  as  well  expect  the 
new  head  boy  at  a public  school  to  learn  from  the  expe- 
rience of  the  last  head  boy.  The  most  valuable  result  of 
many  years  is  a nicely-balanced  mind  instinctively  heed- 
ful of  various  errors ; but  such  a mind  is  the  incommuni- 
cable gift  of  individual  experience,  and  an  outgoing 
minister  can  no  more  leave  it  to  his  successor  than  an 
elder  brother  can  pass  it  on  to  a younger.  Thus  a desul- 
tory and  incalculable  policy  may  follow  from  a rapid 
change  of  ministers. 

These  are  formidable  arguments,  but  four  things  may, 
I think,  be  said  in  reply  to,  or  mitigation  of  them.  A 
little  examination  will  show  that  this  change  of  minist/ers 


248 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


is  essential  to  a Parliamentary  government ; — that  some- 
thing like  it  will  happen  in  all  elective  governments,  and 
that  worse  happens  under  presidential  government ; — that 
it  is  not  necessarily  prejudicial  to  a good  administration, 
but  that,  on  the  contrary,  something  like  it  is  a prerequi- 
site of  good  administration ; — that  the  evident  evils  of 
English  administration  are  not  the  results  of  Parlia- 
mentary government,  but  of  grave  deficiencies  in  other 
parts  of  our  political  and  social  state  ; — that,  in  a word, 
they  result  not  from  what  we  have,  but  from  what  we 
have  not. 

As  to  the  first  point,  those  who  wish  to  remove  the 
choice  of  ministers  from  Parliament  have  not  adequately 
considered  what  a Parliament  is.  A Parliament  is  nothing 
less  than  a big  meeting  of  more  or  less  idle  people.  In 
proportion  as  you  givti  it  power  it  will  inquire  into  every- 
thing, settle  everything,  meddle  in  everything.  In  an 
ordinary  despotism,  the  powers  of  a despot  are  limited  by 
his  bodily  capacity,  and  by  the  calls  of  pleasure ; he  is 
but  one  man ; — there  are  but  twelve  hours  in  his  day, 
and  he  is  not  disposed  to  employ  more  than  a small  part 
in  dull  business ; — he  keeps  the  rest  for  the  court,  or  the 
harem,  or  for  society.  He  is  at  the  top  of  the  world,  and 
all  the  pleasures  of  the  world  are  set  before  him.  Mostly 
there  is  only  a very  small  part  of  political  business  which 
he  cares  to  understand,  and  much  of  it  (with  the  shrewd 
sensual  sense  belonging  to  the  race)  he  knows  that  he  will 
never  understand.  But  a Parliament  is  composed  of  a 
great  number  of  men  by  no  means  at  the  top  of  the  world. 
When  you  establish  a predominant  Parliament,  you  giv<j 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTRY. 


249 


over  th6  rule  of  the  country  to  a despot  who  has  unlimited 
time, — who  has  unlimited  vanity, — who  has,  or  believes  he 
has,  unlimited  comprehension,  whose  pleasure  is  in  action, 
whose  life  is  work.  There  is  no  limit  to  the  curiosity  of 
Parliament.  Sir  Eobert  Peel  once  suggested  that  a list 
should  be  taken  down  of  the  questions  asked  of  him  in  a 
single  evening ; they  touched  more  or  less  on  fifty  sub- 
jects, and  there  were  a thousand  other  subjects  which  by 
parity  of  reason  might  have  been  added  too.  As  soon  as 
bore  A ends,  bore  B begins.  Some  inquire  from  genuine 
love  of  knowledge,  or  from  a real  wish  to  improve  what  they 
ask  about, — others  to  see  their  name  in  the  papers, — 
others  to  show  a watchful  constituency  that  they  are  alert, 
— others  to  get  on  and  to  get  a place  in  the  government, 
— others  from  an  accumulation  of  little  motives  they  could 
not  themselves  analyse,  or  because  it  is  their  habit  to  ask 
things.  And  a proper  reply  must  be  given.  It  was  said 
that  Darby  Griffith  destroyed  Lord  Palmerston’s  first 
Government,”  and  undoubtedly  the  cheerful  impertinence 
with  which  in  the  conceit  of  victory  that  minister  answered 
grave  men  much  hurt  his  Parliamentary  power.  There 
is  one  thing  which  no  one  will  permit  to  be  treated 
lightly, — himself.  And  so  there  is  one  too  which  a sove- 
reign assembly  will  never  permit  to  be  lessened  or  ridi- 
culed,— its  own  power.  The  minister  of  the  day  will  have 
to  give  an  account  in  Parliament  of  all  branches  of  admi- 
nistration, to  say  why  they  act  when  they  do,  and  why 
they  do  not  when  they  don’t. 

Nor  is  chance  inquiry  all  a public  department  has  most 
to  fear.  Fifty  members  of  Parliament  may  be  zealous 
17 


250 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


for  a particular  policy  affecting  the  department,  and  fiftj 
others  for  another  policy,  and  between  them  they  maj 
divide  its  action,  spoil  its  favourite  aims,  and  prevent  its 
Consistently  working  out  either  of  their  own  aims.  The 
process  is  very  simple.  Every  department  at  times  looks 
as  if  it  was  in  a scrape  ; some  apparent  blunder,  perhaps 
some  real  blunder,  catches  the  public  eye.  At  once  the 
antagonist  Parliamentary  sections,  which  want  to  act 
on  the  department,  seize  the  opportunity.  They  make 
speeches,  they  move  for  documents,  they  amass  statistics. 
They  declare  that  in  no  other  country  is  such  a policy 
possible  as  that  which  the  department  is  pursuing ; that  it 
is  mediaeval ; that  it  costs  money ; that  it  wastes  life ; 
that  America  does  the  contrary;  that  Prussia  does  the 
contrary.”  The  newspapers  follow  according  to  their 
nature.  These  bits  of  administrative  scandal  amuse  the 
public.  Articles  on  them  are  very  easy  to  write,  easy  to 
read,  easy  to  talk  about.  They  please  the  vanity  of  man- 
kind. We  think  as  we  read,  Thank  God,  I am  not  as 
that  man ; I did  not  send  green  coffee  to  the  Crimea ; 1 
did  not  send  patent  cartridge  to  the  common  guns,  and 
common  cartridge  to  the  breech-loaders.  I make  money ; 
that  miserable  public  functionary  only  wastes  money.” 
As  for  the  defence  of  the  department,  no  one  cares  for  it 
or  reads  it.  Naturally  at  first  hearing  it  does  not  sound 
true.  The  opposition  have  the  unrestricted  selection  oi 
the  point  of  attack,  and  they  seldom  choose  a case  in 
which  the  department,  upon  the  surface  of  the  matter, 
seems  to  be  right.  The  case  of  first  impression  wil] 
always  be  that  something  shameful  has  happened  ; thai 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTRY. 


251 


such  and  such  men  did  die ; that  this  and  that  gun 
^ould  not  go  off ; that  this  or  that  ship  will  not  sail.  All 
the  pretty  reading  is  unfavourable,  and  all  the  praise  1b 
very  dull. 

Nothing  is  more  helpless  than  such  a department  in 
Parliament  if  it  has  no  authorised  official  defender.  The 
wasps  of  the  House  fasten  on  it ; here  they  perceive  is 
something  easy  to  sting,  and  safe,  for  it  cannot  sting  in 
return.  The  small  grain  of  foundation  for  complaint 
germinates,  till  it  becomes  a whole  crop.  At  once  the 
minister  of  the  day  is  appealed  to ; he  is  at  the  head  of 
the  administration,  and  he  must  put  the  errors  right,  if 
such  they  are.  The  opposition  leader  says,  I put  it  to 
the  right  honourable  gentleman,  the  First  Lord  of  the 
Treasury.  He  is  a man  of  business.  I do  not  agree 
with  him  in  his  choice  of  ends,  but  he  is  an  almost  perfect 
master  of  methods  and  means.  What  he  wishes  to  do  he 
does  do.  Now  I appeal  to  him  whether  such  gratuitous 
errors,  such  fatuous  incapacity,  are  to  be  permitted  in  the 
public  service.  Perhaps  the  right  honourable  gentleman 
will  grant  me  his  attention  while  I show  from  the  very 
documents  of  the  department,”  &c.,  &c.  What  is  the 
minister  to  do  ? He  never  heard  of  this  matter  ; he  does 
not  care  about  the  matter.  Several  of  the  supporters  of 
the  Government  are  interested  in  the  opposition  to  the 
department ; a grave  man,  supposed  to  be  wise,  mutters, 
‘‘  This  is  too  bad.”  The  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  tells 
him,  The  House  is  uneasy.  A good  many  men  are  shaky. 
A.  B.  said  yesterday  he  had  been  dragged  through  the  dirt 
four  nights  following.  Indeed  I am  disposed  to  think 


252 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


myself  that  the  department  has  been  somewhat  lax.  Perhaps 
an  inquiry,”  &c.,  &c.  And  upon  that  the  Prime  Minister 
rises  and  says,  “ That  Her  Majesty’s  Grovernment  having 
given  very  serious  and  grave  consideration  to  this  most 
important  subject,  are  not  prepared  to  say  that  in  so  com- 
plicated a matter  the  department  has  been  perfectly 
exempt  from  error.  He  does  not  indeed  concur  in  all  the 
statements  which  have  been  made ; it  is  obvious  that 
several  of  the  charges  advanced  are  inconsistent  with  one 
another.  If  A.  had  really  died  from  eating  green  coffee 
on  the  Tuesday,  it  is  plain  he  could  not  have  suffered 
from  insufficient  medical  attendance  on  the  following 
Thursday.  However,  on  so  complex  a subject,  and  one 
so  foreign  to  common  experience,  he  will  not  give  a judg- 
ment. And  if  the  honourable  member  would  be  satisfied 
with  having  the  matter  inquired  into  by  a committee  of 
that  House,  he  will  be  prepared  to  accede  to  the  sug- 
gestion.” 

Possibly  the  outlying  department,  distrusting  the 
ministry,  crams  a friend.  But  it  is  happy  indeed  if  it 
chances  on  a judicious  friend.  The  persons  most  ready 
to  take  up  that  sort  of  business  are  benevolent  amateurs, 
very  well  intentioned,  very  grave,  very  respectable,  but 
also  rather  dull.  Their  words  are  good,  but  about  the 
joints  their  arguments  are  weak.  They  speak  very  well, 
but  while  they  are  speaking,  the  decorum  is  so  great  that 
everybody  goes  away.  Such  a man  is  no  match  for  a 
couple  of  House  of  Commons  gladiators.  They  pull  what 
he  says  to  shreds.  They  show  or  say  that  he  is  wrong 
about  his  facts.  Then  he  rises  in  a fuss  and  must  exjdain  t 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTKY. 


253 


but  in  his  hurrj"  he  mistakes,  and  cannot  find  the  right 
paper,  and  becomes  first  hot,  then  confused,  next  inau- 
dible, and  so  sits  down.  Probably  he  leaves  the  House 
with  the  notion  that  the  defence  of  the  department  has 
broken  down,  and  so  the  Times  announces  to  all  the 
world  as  soon  as  it  awakes. 

Some  thinkers  have  naturally  suggested  that  the  heads 
of  departments  should  as  such  have  the  right  of  speech  in 
the  House.  But  the  system  when  it  has  been  tried  has 
not  answered.  M.  Guizot  tells  us  from  his  own  expe- 
rience that  such  a system  is  not  effectual.  A great 
popular  assembly  has  a corporate  character ; it  has  its 
own  privileges,  prejudices,  and  notions.  And  one  of 
these  notions  is  that  its  own  members — the  persons  it 
sees  every  day — whose  qualities  it  knows,  whose  minds  it 
can  test,  are  those  whom  it  can  most  trust.  A clerk 
speaking  from  without  would  be  an  unfamiliar  object. 
He  would  be  an  outsider.  He  would  speak  under  sus- 
picion ; he  would  speak  without  dignity.  Very  often  he 
would  speak  as  a victim.  All  the  bores  of  the  House 
would  be  upon  him.  He  would  be  put  upon  examination. 
He  would  have  to  answer  interrogatories.  He  would  be 
put  through  the  figures  and  cross-questioned  in  detail. 
The  whole  effect  of  what  he  said  would  be  lost  in  quces- 
tiunculce  and  hidden  in  a controversial  detritus. 

Again,  such  a person  would  rarely  speak  with  great 
ability.  He  would  speak  as  a scribe.  His  habits  must 
have  been  formed  in  the  quiet  of  an  office ; he  is  used  to 
red  tape,  placidity,  and  the  respect  of  subordinates.  Such 
% person  will  hardly  ever  be  able  to  stand  the  hurly-burlj 


254 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


of  a pul)lic  assembly.  He  will  lose  his  head — he  will  say 
what  he  should  not.  He  will  get  hot  and  red ; he  will 
feel  he  is  a sort  of  culprit.  After  being  used  to  the 
flattering  deference  of  deferential  subordinates,  he  will  be 
pestered  by  fuss  and  confounded  by  invective.  He  will 
hate  the  House  as  naturally  as  the  House  does  not  like 
him.  He  will  be  an  incompetent  speaker  addressing  a 
hostile  audience. 

And  what  is  more,  an  outside  administrator  addressing 
Parliament,  can  move  Parliament  only  by  the  goodness 
of  his  arguments.  He  has  no  votes  to  back  them  up 
with.  He  is  sure  to  be  at  chronic  war  with  some  active 
minority  of  assailants  or  others.  The  natural  mode  in 
which  a department  is  improved  on  great  points  and 
new  points  is  by  external  suggestion ; the  worst  foes  of  a 
department  are  the  plausible  errors  which  the  most  visible 
facts  suggest,  and  which  only  half  visible  facts  confute. 
Both  the  good  ideas  and  the  bad  ideas  are  sure  to  find 
advocates  first  in  the  press  and  then  in  Parliament. 
Against  these  a permanent  clerk  would  have  to  contend 
by  argument  alone.  The  Minister,  the  head  of  the 
parliamentary  Grovernment,  will  not  care  for  him.  The 
Minister  will  say  in  some  undress  soliloquy,  These  per- 
manent ‘ fellows  ’ must  look  after  themselves.  I cannot 
be  bothered.  I have  only  a majority  of  nine,  and  a very 
shaky  majority,  too.  I cannot  afford  to  make  enemies 
for  those  whom  I did  not  appoint.  They  did  nothing  fo^ 
me,  and  I can  do  nothing  for  them.”  And  if  the  perma- 
nent clerk  come  to  ask  his  help  he  will  say  in  decorous 
language,  I am  sure  that  if  the  department  can  evince 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTRY. 


255 


to  the  satisfaction  of  Parliament  that  its  past  manage- 
ment has  been  such  as  the  public  interests  require,  no 
one  will  be  more  gratified  than  myself.  I am  not  aware 
if  it  will  be  in  my  power  to  attend  in  my  place  on  Mon- 
day ; but  if  I can  be  so  fortunate,  I shall  listen  to  your 
official  statement  with  my  very  best  attention.”  And  so 
the  permanent  public  servant  will  be  teased  by  the  wits, 
oppressed  by  the  bores,  and  massacred  by  the  innovators 
of  Parliament. 

The  incessant  tyranny  of  Parliament  over  the  public 
offices  is  prevented  and  can  only  be  prevented  by  the 
appointment  of  a parliamentary  head,  connected  by  close 
ties  with  the  present  ministry  and  the  ruling  party  in 
Parliament.  The  parliamentary  head  is  a protecting 
machine.  He  and  the  friends  he  brings  stand  between 
the  department  and  the  busybodies  and  crotchet-makers 
of  the  House  and  the  country.  So  long  as  at  any  moment 
the  policy  of  an  office  could  be  altered  by  chance  votes  in 
either  House  of  Parliament,  there  is  no  security  for  any 
consistency.  Our  guns  and  our  ships  are  not,  perhaps, 
very  good  now.  But  they  would  be  much  worse  if  any 
thirty  or  forty  advocates  for  this  gun  or  that  gun  could 
make  a motion  in  Parliament,  beat  the  department,  and 
get  their  ships  or  their  guns  adopted.  The  “ Black 
Breech  Ordnance  Company  ” and  the  Adamantine  Ship 
Company  ” would  soon  find  representatives  in  Parliament, 
if  forty  or  fifty  members  would  get  the  national  custom 
for  their  rubbish.  But  this  result  is  now  prevented  by 
the  parliamentary  head  of  the  department.  As  soon  as 
the  opposition  begins  the  attack,  he  looks  up  his  means 


256 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


of  defence.  He  studies  the  subject,  compiles  his  argu^ 
ments,  and  builds  little  piles  of  statistics,  which  he  hopes 
will  have  some  effect.  He  has  his  reputation  at  stake, 
and  he  wishes  to  show  that  he  is  worth  his  present  place, 
and  fit  for  future  promotion.  He  is  well  known,  perhaps 
liked,  by  the  House — at  any  rate  the  House  attends  to 
him ; he  is  one  of  the  regular  speakers  whom  they  hear 
and  heed.  He  is  sure  to  be  able  to  get  himself  heard, 
and  he  is  sm:e  to  make  the  best  defence  he  can.  And 
after  he  has  settled  his  speech  he  loiters  up  to  the  Secre- 
tary of  the  Treasury,  and  says  quietly,  “ They  have  got  a 
motion  against  me  on  Tuesday,  you  know.  I hope  you 
will  have  your  men  here.  A lot  of  fellows  have  crotchets, 
and  though  they  do  not  agree  a bit  with  one  another, 
they  are  all  against  the  department ; they  will  all  vote 
for  the  inquiry.”  And  the  Secretary  answers,  “ Tuesday, 
you  say ; no  (looking  at  a paper),  I do  not  think  it  will 
come  on  on  Tuesday.  There  is  Higgins  on  Education. 
He  is  good  for  a long  time.  But  anyhow  it  shall  be  all 
right.”  And  then  he  glides  about  and  speaks  a word  here 
and  a word  there,  in  consequence  of  which,  when  the  anti- 
oflScial  motion  is  made,  a considerable  array  of  steady, 
grave  faces  sits  behind  the  Treasury  Bench — nay,  possibly 
a rising  man  who  sits  in  outlying  independence  below 
the  gangway  rises  to  defend  the  transaction  ; the  depart- 
ment wins  by  thirty-three,  and  the  management  of  that 
business  pursues  its  steady  way. 

This  contrast  is  no  fancy  picture.  The  experiment  of 
conducting  the  administration  of  a public  depa]*tment  by 
ar  independent  unsheltered  authority  has  often  been  tried, 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTRY. 


257 


and  always  failed.  Parliament  always  poked  at  it,  till  it 
made  it  impossible.  The  most  remarkable  is  that  of  the 
Poor  Law.  The  administration  of  that  law  is  not  now 
very  good,  but  it  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  almost  the 
whole  of  its  goodness  has  been  preserved  by  its  having  an 
official  and  party  protector  in  the  House  of  Commons. 
Without  that  contrivance  we  should  have  drifted  back 
into  the  errors  of  the  old  Poor  Law,  and  superadded  to 
them  the  present  meanness  and  incompetence  in  our  large 
towns.  All  would  have  been  given  up  to  local  manage- 
ment. Parliament  would  have  interfered  with  the  central 
board  till  it  made  it  impotent,  and  the  local  authorities 
would  have  been  despotic.  The  first  administration  of 
the  new  Poor  Law  was  by  Commissioners  ” — the  three 
kings  of  Somerset  House,  as  they  were  called.  The  system 
was  certainly  not  tried  in  untrustw^orthy  hands.  At  the 
crisis  Mr.  Chadwick,  one  of  the  most  active  and  best 
administrators  in  England,  was  the  secretary  and  the 
motive  power : the  principal  Commissioner  was  Sir  George 
Lewis,  perhaps  the  best  selective  administrator  of  our 
time.  But  the  House  of  Commons  would  not  let  the 
Commission  alone.  For  a long  time  it  was  defended 
because  the  Whigs  had  made  the  Commission,  and  felt 
bound  as  a party  to  protect  it.  The  new  law  started 
upon  a certain  intellectual  impetus,  and  till  that  was 
spent  its  administration  was  supported  in  a rickety 
existence  by  an  abnormal  strength.  But  afterwards  the 
Commissioners  were  left  to  their  intrinsic  weakness. 
There  were  members  for  all  the  localities,  but  there  were 
none  for  them.  There  were  members  for  every  crotchet 


258 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


and  corrupt  interest,  but  there  were  none  for  them.  The 
rural  guardians  would  have  liked  to  eke  out  wages  by 
rates ; the  city  guardians  hated  control,  and  hated  to 
spend  money.  The  Commission  had  to  be  dissolved,  and 
a parliamentary  head  was  added  ; the  result  is  not  perfect, 
but  it  is  an  amazing  improvement  on  what  would  have 
happened  in  the  old  system.  The  new  system  has  not 
worked  well  because  the  central  authority  has  too  little 
power ; but  under  the  previous  system  the  central  autho- 
rity was  getting  to  have,  and  by  this  time  would  have 
had,  no  power  at  all.  And  if  Sir  Greorge  Lewis  and  Mr. 
Chadwick  could  not  maintain  an  outlying  department  in 
hhe  face  of  Parliament,  how  unlikely  that  an  inferior  com- 
pound of  discretion  and  activity  will  ever  maintain  it ! 

These  reasonings  show  why  a changing  parliamentary 
head,  a head  changing  as  the  ministry  changes,  is  a 
necessity  of  good  Parliamentary  government,  and  there 
is  happily  a natural  provision  that  there  will  be  such 
heads.  Party  organisation  ensures  it.  In  America,  where 
on  account  of  the  fixedly  recurring  presidential  election, 
and  the  perpetual  minor  elections,  party  organisation  is 
much  more  effectually  organised  than  anywhere  else,  the 
effect  on  the  offices  is  tremendous.  Every  office  is  filled 
anew  at  every  presidential  change,  at  least  every  change 
which  brings  in  a new  party.  Not  only  the  greatest 
posts,  as  in  England,  but  the  minor  posts  change  their 
occupants.  The  scale  of  the  financial  operations  of  the 
Federal  government  is  now  so  increased  that  most  likely 
in  that  department,  at  least,  there  must  in  future  remain 
a permanent  element  of  great  efficiency;  a revenue  of 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTRY. 


259 


90,000,000^.  sterling  cannot  be  collected  and  expended 
with  a trifling  and  changing  staiF.  [But"  till  now  the 
' Americans  have  tried  to  get  on  not  only  with  changing 
heads  to  a bureaucracy,  as  the  English,  but  without  any 
stable  bureaucracy  at  all.  J They  have  facilities  for  trying 
it  which  no  one  else  has.  All  Americans  can  administer, 
and  the  number  of  them  really  fit  to  be  in  succession 
lawyers,  financiers,  or  military  managers  is  wonderful ; 
they  need  not  be  as  afraid  of  a change  of  all  their  officials 
as  European  countries  must,  for  the  incoming  substitutes 
are  sure  to  be  much  better  there  than  here ; and  they  do 
not  fear,  as  we  English  fear,  that  the  outgoing  officials 
will  be  left  destitute  in  middle  life,  with  no  hope  for  the 
future  and  no  recompense  for  the  past,  for  in  America 
(whatever  may  be  the  cause  of  it)  opportunities  are 
numberless,  and  a man  who  is  ruined  by  being  “ off  the 
rails”  in  England  soon  there  gets  on  another  line.  The 
Americans  will  probably  to  some  extent  modify  their  past 
system  of  total  administrative  cataclysms,  but  their  very 
existence  in  the  only  competing  form  of  free  government 
should  prepare  us  for  and  make  us  patient  with  the  mild 
transitions  of  Parliamentary  government. 

These  arguments  will,  I think,  seem  conclusive  to 
almost  every  one ; but,  at  this  moment,  many  people  will 
meet  them  thus  : they  will  say,  You  prove  what  we  do 
not  deny,  that  this  system  of  periodical  change  is  a neces- 
sary ingredient  in  Parliamentary  government,  but  you 
have  not  proved  what  we  do  deny,  that  this  change  is  a 
good  thing.  Parliamentary  government  may  have  that 
effect,  among  others,  for  anything  we  care  : we  maintain 


260 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


merelj  that  it  is  a defect.”  In  answer,  I think  it  may  be 
shown  not,  indeed,  that  this  precise  change  is  necessary 
to  a permanently  perfect  administration,  but  that  sorse 
analogous  change,  some  change  of  the  same  species,  is 

BO. 

At  this  moment,  in  England,  there  is  a sort  of  leaning 
towards  bureaucracy — at  least,  among  writers  and  talkers. 
There  is  a seizure  of  partiality  to  it.  The  English  people 
do  not  easily  change  their  rooted  notions,  but  they  have 
many  unrooted  notions.  Any  great  European  event  is 
sure  for  a moment  to  excite  a sort  of  twinge  of  conver- 
sion to  something  or  other.  Just  now,  the  triumph  of 
the  Prussians — the  bureaucratic  people,  as  is  believed, 
par  excellence — has  excited  a kind  of  admiration  for  bu- 
reaucracy, which  a few  years  since  we  should  have  though! 
impossible.  I do  not  presume  to  criticise  the  Prussian 
bureaucracy  of  my  own  knowledge ; it  certainly  is  not  a 
pleasant  institution  for  foreigners  to  come  across,  though 
agreeableness  to  travellers  is  but  of  very  second-rate  im- 
portance. But  it  is  quite  certain  that  the  Prussian  bureau- 
cracy, though  we,  for  a moment,  half  admire  it  at  a dis- 
tance, does  not  permanently  please  the  most  intelligent 
and  liberal  Prussians  at  home.  What  are  two  among  the 
principal  aims  of  the  Fortschritt  Partei — the  party  of 
progress — as  Mr.  Grant  Duff,  the  most  accurate  and  phi- 
losophical of  our  describers,  delineates  them  ? 

First,  a liberal  system,  conscientiously  carried  out 
in  all  the  details  of  the  administration,  with  a view  to 
avoiding  the  scandals  now  of  frequent  occurrence,  when 
an  obstinate  or  bigoted  ofl&cial  sets  at  defiance  the  liberal 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTRY. 


261 


initiations  of  the  government,  trusting  to  backstairs 
influence.” 

Second,  “ an  easy  method  of  bringing  to  justice  guilty 
officials,  who  are  at  present,  as  in  France,  in  all  conflicts 
with  simple  citizens,  like  men  armed  cap-a-pie  fighting 
with  -^^defenceless.”  A system  against  which  the  most 
intelligent  native  liberals  bring  even  with  colour  of  rea- 
son such  grave  obj'ections,  is  a dangerous  model  for  foreign 
imitation. 

The  defects  of  bureaucracy  are,  indeed,  well  known. 
It  is  a form  of  government  which  has  been  tried  often 
enough  in  the  world,  and  it  is  easy  to  show  what,  human 
nature  being  what  it  in  the  long  run  is,  the  defects  of  a 
bureaucracy  must  in  the  long  run  be. 

It  is  an  inevitable  defect,  that  bureaucrats  will  care 
more  for  routine  than  for  results ; or,  as  Burke  put  it, 

that  they  will  think  the  substance  of  business  not  to 
be  much  more  important  than  the  forms  of  it.’  Their 
whole  education  and  all  the  habit  of  their  lives  make 
them  do  so.  They  are  brought  young  into  the  particular 
part  of  the  public  service  to  which  they  are  attached ; 
they  are  occupied  for  years  in  learning  its  forms — after- 
wards, for  years  too,  in  applying  these  forms  to  trifling 
matters.  They  are,  to  use  the  phrase  of  an  old  writer, 
‘ but  the  tailors  of  business  ; they  cut  the  clothes,  but  they 
do  not  find  the  body.’  Men  so  trained  must  come  to  think 
the  routine  of  business  not  a means,  but  an  end — to  ima- 
gine the  elaborate  machinery  of  which  they  form  a part, 
and  from  which  they  derive  their  dignity,  to  be  a grand 
and  achieved  result,  not  a working  and  changeable  instru- 


2G2 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


ment.  But  in  a miscellaneous  world,  there  is  now  one 
evil  and  now  another.  The  very  means  which  best  helped 
you  yesterday,  may  very  likely  be  those  which  most  impede 
you  to-morrow — you  may  want  to  do  a different  thing  to- 
morrow, and  all  your  accumulation  of  means  for  yester- 
day’s work  is  but  an  obstacle  to  the  new  work.  The 
Prussian  military  system  is  the  theme  of  popular  wonder 
now,  yet  it  sixty  years  pointed  the  moral  against  form. 
We  have  all  heard  the  saying  that  “ Frederic  the  Great 
lost  the  battle  of  Jena.”  It  was  the  system  which  he  had 
established — a good  system  for  his  wants  and  his  times, 
which,  blindly  adhered  to,  and  continued  into  a different 
age — put  to  strive  with  new  competitors, — brought  his 
country  to  ruin.  The  dead  and  formal  ” Prussian  system 
was  then  contrasted  with  the  living  ” French  system — the 
sudden  outcome  of  the  new  explosive  democracy.  The 
system  which  now  exists  is  the  product  of  the  reaction  ; 
and  the  history  of  its  predecessor  is  a warning  what  its 
future  history  may  be  too.  It  is  not  more  celebrated  for 
its  day  than  Frederic’s  for  his,  and  principle  teaches  that 
a bureaucracy,  elated  by  sudden  success,  and  marvelling 
at  its  own  merit,  is  the  most  unimproving  and  shallow  of 
governments. 

Not  only  does  a bureaucracy  thus  tend  to  under-govern- 
ment, in  point  of  quality ; it  tends  to  over-government, 
in  point  of  quantity.  The  trained  official  hates  the  rude, 
untrained  public.  He  thinks  that  they  are  stupid,  igno- 
rant, reckless — that  they  cannot  tell  their  own  interest — 
that  they  should  have  the  leave  of  the  office  before  they  do 
anything.  Protection  is  the  natural  inborn  creed  of 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTRY. 


263 


every  jfBcial  body ; free  trade  is  an  extrinsic  idea^  alien 
to  its  notions,  and  hardly  to  be  assimilated  with  life  ; and 
it  is  easy  to  see  how  an  accomplished  critic,  used  to  a free 
and  active  life,  could  thus  describe  the  official. 

“ Every  imaginable  and  real  social  interest,”  says  Mr. 
Laing,  religion,  education,  law,  police,  every  branch  of 
public  or  private  business,  personal  liberty  to  move  from 
place  to  place,  even  from  parish  to  parish  within  the  same 
jurisdiction ; liberty  to  engage  in  any  branch  of  trade  or 
industry,  on  a small  or  large  scale,  all  the  objects,  in  short, 
in  which  body,  mind,  and  capital  can  be  employed  in 
civilised  society,  were  gradually  laid  hold  of  for  the  em- 
ployment and  support  of  functionaries,  were  centralised 
in  bureaux^  were  superintended,  licensed,  inspected,  re- 
ported upon,  and  interfered  with  by  a host  of  officials  scat- 
tered over  the  land,  and  maintained  at  the  public  expense, 
yet  with  no  conceivable  utility  in  their  duties.  They  are 
not,  however,  gentlemen  at  large,  enjoying  salary  without 
service.  They  are  under  a semi-military  discipline.  In 
Bavaria,  for  instance,  the  superior  civil  functionary  can 
place  his  inferior  functionary  under  house-arrest,  for  neg- 
lect of  duty,  or  other  offence  against  civil  functionary 
discipline.  In  Wurtemberg,  the  functionary  cannot  marry 
without  leave  from  his  superior.  Voltaire  says,  some- 
where, that,  ‘ the  art  of  government  is  to  make  two-thirds 
of  a nation  pay  all  it  possibly  can  pay  for  the  benefit  of 
the  other  third.’  This  is  realised  in  Grermany  by  the 
functionary  system.  The  functionaries  are  not  there  for 
the  benefit  of  the  people,  but  the  people  for  the  benefit  of 
the  functionaries.  All  this  machinery  of  fiinctionarism. 


m 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


with  its  numerous  ranks  and  gradations  in  every  district, 
Slled  with  a staff  of  clerks  and  expectants  in  every  de- 
partment looking  for  employment,  appointments,  or  pro- 
motions, was  intended  to  be  a new  support  of  the  throne 
in  the  new  social  state  of  the  Continent ; a third  class,  in 
connection  with  the  people  by  their  various  official  duties 
of  interference  in  all  public  or  private  affairs,  yet  attached 
by  their  interests  to  the  kingly  power.  The  Beampten- 
stands  or  functionary  class,  was  to  be  the  equivalent  to 
the  class  of  nobility,  gentry,  capitalists,  and  men  of  larger 
landed  property  than  the  peasant-proprietors,  and  was  to 
make  up  in  numbers  for  the  want  of  individual  weight  and 
influence.  In  France,  at  the  expulsion  of  Louis  Philippe, 
the  civil  functionaries  were  stated  to  amount  to  807,030 
individuals.  This  civil  army  was  more  than  double  of 
the  military.  In  Germany,  this  class  is  necessarily  more 
numerous  in  proportion  to  the  population,  the  landwehr 
system  imposing  many  more  restrictions  than  the  con- 
scription on  the  free  action  of  the  people,  and  requiring 
more  officials  to  manage  it,  and  the  semi-feudal  jurisdic- 
tions and  forms  of  law  requiring  much  more  writing  and 
intricate  forms  of  procedure  before  the  courts  than  the 
Code  Napoleon.” 

A bureaucracy  is  sure  to  think  that  its  duty  is  to 
augment  official  power,  official  business,  or  official  mem- 
bers, rather  than  to  leave  free  the  energies  of  mankind ; 
it  overdoes  the  quantity  of  government,  as  well  as  impairs 
its  quality. 

The  truth  is,  that  a skilled  bureaucracy — a bureaucracy 
trained  from  early  life  to  its  special  avocation-  —is,  though 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTRY. 


265 


it  boasts  of  an  appearance  of  science,  quite  inconsistent 
with  the  true  principles  of  the  art  of  business.  That  art 
has  not  yet  been  condensed  into  precepts,  but  a great 
many  experiments  have  been  made,  and  a vast  floating 
vapour  of  knowledge  floats  through  society.  One  of  the 
most  sure  principles  is,  that  success  depends  on  a due 
mixture  of  special  and  nonspecial  minds — of  minds  which 
attend  to  the  means,  and  of  minds  which  attend  to  the 
end.  The  success  of  the  great  joint-stock  banks  of 
London — the  most  remarkable  achievement  of  recent 
business — has  been  an  example  of  the  use  of  this  mixture. 
These  banks  are  managed  by  a board  of  persons  mostly 
not  trained  to  the  business,  supplemented  by,  and  annexed 
to,  a body  of  specially  trained  officers,  who  have  been 
bred  to  banking  all  their  lives.  These  mixed  banks  have 
quite  beaten  the  old  banks,  composed  exclusively  of  pure 
bankers ; it  is  found  that  the  board  of  directors  has 
greater  and  more  flexible  knowledge — more  insight  into 
the  wants  of  a commercial  community — knows  when  to 
lend  and  when  not  to  lend,  better  than  the  old  bankers, 
who  had  never  looked  at  life,  except  out  of  the  bank 
windows.  Just  so  the  most  successful  railways  in  Europe 
have  been  conducted — not  by  engineers  or  traffic  managers 
— but  by  capitalists  ; by  men  of  a certain  business  culture, 
if  of  no  other.  These  capitalists  buy  and  use  the  services 
of  skilled  managers,  as  the  unlearned  attorney  buys  and 
uses  the  services  of  the  skilled  barrister,  and  manage  far 
better  than  any  of  the  different  sorts  of  special  men  under 
them.  They  combine  these  different  specialties — make 
it  clear  where  the  realm  of  one  ends  and  that  of  the 


18 


266 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


Dther  begins,  and  add  to  it  a wide  knowledge  of  large 
affairs,  which  no  special  man  can  have,  and  which  is  only 
gained  by  diversified  action.  But  this  utility  of  leading 
minds  used  to  generalise,  and  acting  upon  various  mate- 
rials, is  entirely  dependent  upon  their  position.  They 
must  not  be  at  the  bottom — they  must  not  even  be  half 
way  up — they  must  be  at  the  top.  A merchant’s  clerk 
would  be  a child  at  a bank  counter ; but  the  merchant 
himself  could,  very  likely,  give  good,  clear,  and  useful 
advice  in  a bank  court.  The  merchant’s  clerk  would  be 
equally  at  sea  in  a railway  office,  but  the  merchant 
himself  could  give  good  advice,  very  likely,  at  a board 
of  directors.  The  summits  (if  I may  so  say)  of  the 
various  kinds  of  business  are,  like  the  tops  of  moun- 
tains, much  more  alike  than  the  parts  below — the  bare 
principles  are  much  the  same;  it  is  only  the  rich 
variegated  details  of  the  lower  strata  that  so  contrast 
with  one  another.  But  it  needs  travelling  to  know 
that  the  summits  are  the  same.  Those  who  live  on  one 
mountain  believe  that  their  mountain  is  wholly  unlike 
all  others. 

The  application  of  this  principle  to  Parliamentary 
government  is  very  plain;  it  shows  at  once  that  the 
intrusion  from  without  upon  an  office  of  an  exterior  head 
of  the  office,  is  not  an  evil,  but  that,  on  the  contrary,  it 
is  essential  to  the  perfection  of  that  office.  If  it  is  left 
to  itself,  the  office  will  become  technical,  self-absorbed, 
Belf-multiplying.  It  will  be  likely  to  overlook  the  end 
in  the  means  ; it  will  fail  from  narrowness  of  mind ; it 
will  be  eager  in  seeming  to  do ; it  will  be  idle  in  real 


CHANGES  OP  MINISTKY. 


267 


doing.  An  extrinsic  chief  is  the  fit  corrector  of  such 
errors.  He  can  say  to  the  permanent  chief,  skilled  in 
the  forms  and  pompous  with  the  memories  of  his  office, 

Will  you.  Sir,  explain  to  me  how  this  regulation  con- 
duces to  the  end  in  view?  According  to  the  natural 
view  of  things,  the  applicant  should  state  the  whole  of 
his  wishes  to  one  clerk  on  one  paper ; you  make  him  say 
it  to  five  clerks  on  five  papers.”  Or,  again,  Does  it  not 
appear  to  you.  Sir,  that  the  reason  of  this  formality  is 
extinct  ? When  we  were  building  wood  ships,  it  was  quite 
right  to  have  such  precautions  against  fire  ; but  now  that 
we  are  building  iron  ships,”  &c.,  &c.  If  a junior  clerk 
asked  these  questions,  he  would  be  “ pooh-poohed  !”  It  is 
only  the  head  of  an  office  that  can  get  them  answered 
It  is  he,  and  he  only,  that  brings  the  rubbish  of  office  to 
the  burning-glass  of  sense. 

The  immense  importance  of  such  a fresh  mind  is 
greatest  in  a country  where  business  changes  most.  A 
dead,  inactive,  agricultural  country  may  be  governed  by 
an  unalterable  bureau  for  years  and  years,  and  no  harm 
come  of  it.  If  a wise  man  arranged  the  bureau  rightly 
in  the  beginning,  it  may  run  rightly  a long  time.  But, 
if  the  country  be  a progressive,  eager,  changing  one, 
soon  the  bureau  will  either  cramp  improvement,  or  be 
destroyed  itself. 

This  conception  of  the  use  of  a Parliamentary  head 
shows  now  wrong  is  the  obvious  notion  which  regards 
^im  as  the  principal  administrator  of  his  office.  The 
late  Sir  George  Lewis  used  to  be  fond  of  explaining  this 
subject.  He  had  every  means  of  knowing.  He  was  bred 


268 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION, 


in  tlie  permanent  civil  service.  He  was  a very  successful 
Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  a very  successful  Home 
Secretary,  and  he  died  Minister  for  War.  He  used  to 
say,  It  is  not  the  business  of  a Cabinet  Minister  to  work 
his  department.  His  business  is  to  see  that  it  is  properly 
worked.  If  he  does  much,  he  is  probably  doing  harm. 
The  permanent  staff  of  the  office  can  do  what  he  chooses 
to  do  much  better,  or  if  they  cannot,  they  ought  to  be 
removed.  He  is  only  a bird  of  passage,  and  cannot  com- 
pete with  those  who  are  in  the  office  all  their  lives  round.’ 
Sir  Greorge  Lewis  was  a perfect  Parliamentary  head  of  an 
office,  so  far  as  that  head  is  to  be  a keen  critic  and 
rational  corrector  of  it. 

But  Sir  George  Lewis  was  not  perfect : he  was  not  even 
an  average  good  head  in  another  respect.  The  use  of  a 
fresh  mind  applied  to  the  official  mind  is  not  only  a cor- 
rective use,  it  is  also  an  animating  use.  A public  depart- 
ment is  very  apt  to  be  dead  to  what  is  wanting  for  a great 
occasion  till  the  occasion  is  past.  The  vague  public  mind 
will  appreciate  some  signal  duty  before  the  precise,  occu- 
pied administration  perceives  it.  The  Duke  of  Newcastle 
was  of  this  use  at  least  in  the  Crimean  war.  He  roused 
up  his  department,  though  when  roused  it  could  not  act. 
A perfect  parliamentary  minister  would  be  one  who  should 
add  the  animating  capacity  of  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  to 
the  accumulated  sense,  the  detective  instinct,  and  the 
laissez  faire  habit  of  Sir  George  Lewis. 

As  soon  as  we  take  the  true  view  of  Parliamentary  office 
we  shall  perceive  that,  fairly,  frequent  change  in  the 
official  is  an  advantage,  not  a mistake.  If  his  function  ifi 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTEY. 


269 


to  bring  a representative  of  outside  sense  and  outside 
animation  in  contact  with  the  inside  world,  he  ought 
often  to  be  changed.  No  man  is  a perfect  representative 
of  outside  sense.  “ There  is  some  one,”  says  the  true 
French  saying,  who  is  more  able  than  Talleyrand,  more 
able  than  Napoleon.  G^est  tout  le  monde.^'*  That  many- 
sided  sense  finds  no  microcosm  in  any  single  individual. 
Still  less  are  the  critical  function  and  the  animating 
function  of  a Parliamentary  minister  likely  to  be  per- 
fectly exercised  by  one  and  the  same  man.  Impelling 
power  and  restraining  wisdom  are  as  opposite  as  any  two 
things,  and  are  rarely  found  together.  And  even  if  the 
natural  mind  of  the  Parliamentary  minister  was  perfect, 
long  contact  with  the  office  would  destroy  his  use. 
Inevitably  he  would  accept  the  ways  of  office,  think  its 
thoughts,  live  its  life.  The  dyer’s  hand  would  be  sub- 
dued to  what  it  works  in.”  If  the  function  of  a Parlia- 
mentary minister  is  to  be  an  outsider  to  his  office,  we 
must  not  choose  one  who,  by  habit,  thought,  and  life,  is 
acclimatised  to  its  ways. 

There  is  every  reason  to  expect  that  a Parliamentary 
statesman  will  be  a man  of  quite  sufficient  intelligence, 
quite  enough  various  knowledge,  quite  enough  miscel- 
laneous experience,  to  represent  effectually  general 
sense  in  opposition  to  bureaucratic  sense.  Most  Cabinet 
ministers  in  charge  of  considerable  departments  are  men 
of  superior  ability ; I have  heard  an  eminent  living 
statesman  of  long  experience  say  that  in  his  time  he  only 
knew  one  instance  to  the  contrary.  And  there  is  the 
best  protection  that  it  shall  be  so.  A considerable 


m 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


Cabinet  minister  has  to  defend  his  Department  in  the 
face  of  mankind ; and  though  distant  observers  and  sharp 
writers  may  depreciate  it,  this  is  a very  difficult  thing. 
A fool,  who  has  publicly  to  explain  great  affairs,  who  haa 
publicly  to  answer  detective  questions,  who  has  publicly 
to  argue  against  able  and  quick  opponents,  must  soon  be 
shown  to  be  a fool.  The  very  nature  of  Parliamentary 
government  answers  for  the  discovery  of  substantial  in- 
competence. 

At  any  rate,  none  of  the  competing  forms  of  govern- 
ment have  nearly  so  effectual  a procedure  for  putting  a 
good  untechnical  minister  to  correct  and  impel  the  routine 
ones.  There  are  but  four  important  forms  of  government 
in  the  present  state  of  the  world, — the  Parliamentary,  the 
Presidential,  the  Hereditary,  and  the  Dictatorial,  or  Ee- 
volutionary.  Of  these  I have  shown  that,  as  now  worked 
in  America,  the  Presidential  form  of  government  is  in- 
compatible with  a skilled  bureaucracy.  If  the  whole 
official  class  change  when  a new  party  goes  out  or  comes 
in,  a good  official  system  is  impossible.  Even  if  more 
officials  should  be  permanent  in  America  than  now,  still, 
vast  numbers  will  always  be  changed.  The  whole  issue 
is  based  on  a single  election — on  the  choice  of  President ; 
by  that  internecine  conflict  all  else  is  won  or  lost.  The 
managers  of  the  contest  have  that  greatest  possible  facility 
in  using  what  I may  call  patronage-bribery.  Everybody 
knows  that,  as  a fact,  the  President  can  give  what  places 
he  likes  to  what  persons,  and  when  his  friends  tell  A.  B., 

If  we  win  C.  D.  shall  be  turned  out  of  Utica  Post-office, 
and  you,  A.  B.,  shall  have  it,”  A.  B.  believes  it,  and  u 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTRY. 


271 


justified  in  doing  so.  But  no  individual  member  of  Par- 
liament can  promise  place  effectually.  He  may  not  be 
able  to  give  the  places.  His  party  may  come  in,  but  he 
will  be  powerless.  In  the  United  States  party  intensity 
is  aggravated  by  concentrating  an  overwhelming  import- 
ance on  a single  contest,  and  the  efficiency  of  promised 
offices  as  a means  of  corruption  is  augmented,  because  the 
victor  can  give  what  he  likes  to  whom  he  likes. 

Nor  is  this  the  only  defect  of  a Presidential  govern- 
ment in  reference  to  the  choice  of  officers.  The  President 
has  the  principal  anomaly  of  a Parliamentary  government 
without  having  its  corrective.  At  each  change  of  party 
the  President  distributes  (as  here)  the  principal  offices  to 
his  principal  supporters.  But  he  has  an  opportunity  for 
singular  favouritism.  The  minister  lurks  in  the  office ; 
he  need  do  nothing  in  public  ; he  need  not  show  for  years 
whether  he  is  a fool  or  wise.  The  nation  can  tell  what  a 
Parliamentary  member  is  by  the  open  test  of  Parlia- 
ment ; but  no  one,  save  from  actual  contact,  or  by  rare 
position,  can  tell  anything  certain  of  a Presidential 
minister. 

The  case  of  a minister  under  an  hereditary  form  of 
government  is  yet  worse.  The  hereditary  king  may  be 
weak ; may  be  under  the  government  of  women ; may 
appoint  a minister  from  childish  motives ; may  remove 
one  from  absurd  whims.  There  is  no  security  that  an 
hereditary  king  will  be  competent  to  choose  a good  chief 
minister,  and  thousands  of  such  kings  have  chosen  mil- 
lions of  bad  ministers. 

By  the  Dictatorial,  or  Kevoluiionary,  sort  of  govern- 


272 


THE  EIS'GLISH  COI^^STITUTION. 


ment,  I mean  that  very  important  sort  in  which  the  sove- 
reign— the  absolute  sovereign — is  selected  by  insurrection. 
In  theory,  one  would  have  certainly  hoped  that  by  this 
time  such  a crude  elective  machinery  would  have  been 
reduced  to  a secondary  part.  But,  in  fact,  the  greatest 
nation  (or,  perhaps,  after  the  exploits  of  Bismarck,  I 
should  say  one  of  the  two  greatest  nations  of  the  Conti- 
nent) vacillates  between  the  Eevolutionary  and  the  Par- 
liamentary, and  now  is  governed  under  the  revolutionary 
form.  France  elects  its  ruler  in  the  streets  of  Paris. 
Flatterers  may  suggest  that  the  democratic  empire  will 
become  hereditary,  but  close  observers  know  that  it  can- 
not.  The  idea  of  the  government  is  that  the  Emperor 
represents  the  people  in  capacity,  in  judgment,  in  instinct. 
But  no  family  through  generations  can  have  sufficient,  oi 
half  sufficient,  mind  to  do  so.  The  representative  despot 
must  be  chosen  by  fighting,  as  Napoleon  I.  and  Napoleon 
III.  were  chosen.  And  such  a government  is  likely, 
whatever  be  its  other  defects,  to  have  a far  better  and 
abler  administration  than  any  other  government.  The 
head  of  the  government  must  be  a man  of  the  most  con- 
summate ability.  He  cannot  keep  his  place,  he  can  hardly 
keep  his  life,  unless  he  is.  He  is  sure  to  be  active, 
because  he  knows  that  his  power,  and  perhaps  his  head, 
may  be  lost  if  he  be  negligent.  The  whole  frame  of  his 
State  is  strained  to  keep  down  revolution.  The  most 
difficult  of  all  political  problems  is  to  be  solved — the 
people  are  to  be  at  once  thoroughly  restrained  and  tho- 
roughly pleased.  The  executive  must  be  like  a steel  shirt 
of  tha  middle  ages — extremely  hard  and  extremely  flexi* 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTRY. 


273 


Die.  It  must  give  way  to  attractive  novelties  which  do 
not  hurt ; it  must  resist  such  as  are  dangerous ; it  must 
maintain  old  things  which  are  good  and  fitting ; it  must 
alter  such  as  cramp  and  give  pain.  The  dictator  dare  not 
appoint  a bad  minister  if  he  would.  I admit  that  such  a 
despot  is  a better  selector  of  administrators  than  a parlia- 
ment ; that  he  will  know  how  to  mix  fresh  minds  and 
used  minds  better  ; that  he  is  under  a stronger  motive  to 
combine  them  well ; that  here  is  to  be  seen  the  best  of 
all  choosers  with  the  keenest  motives  to  choose.  But  I 
need  not  prove  in  England  that  the  revolutionary  selection 
of  rulers  obtains  administrative  efficiency  at  a price  alto- 
gether transcending  its  value ; that  it  shocks  credit  by 
its  catastrophes ; that  for  intervals  it  does  not  protect 
property  or  life  ; that  it  maintains  an  undergrowth  of  fear 
through  all  prosperity ; that  it  may  take  years  to  find  the 
true  capable  despot ; that  the  interregna  of  the  incapable 
are  full  of  all  evil ; that  the  fit  despot  may  die  as  soon  as 
found ; that  the  good  administration  and  all  else  hang  by 
the  thread  of  his  life. 

But  if,  with  the  exception  of  this  terrible  revolutionary 
government,  a Parliamentary  government  upon  principle 
surpasses  all  its  competitors  in  administrative  efficiency, 
why  is  it  that  our  English  Grovernment,  which  is  beyond 
comparison  the  best  of  Parliamentary  governments,  is  not 
celebrated  through  the  world  for  administrative  efficiency? 
It  is  noted  for  many  things,  why  is  it  not  noted  for  that  ? 
Why,  according  to  popular  belief,  is  it  rather  characterised 
by  the  very  contrary  ? 

One  great  reason  of  the  diffused  impression  is,  that  the 


274 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


English  Grovernment  attempts  so  much.  Our  military 
system  is  that  which  is  most  attacked.  Objectors  say  we 
spend  much  more  on  our  army  than  the  great  military 
monarchies,  and  yet  with  an  inferior  result.  But,  then, 
what  we  attempt  is  incalculably  more  difficult.  The  con- 
tinental monarchies  have  only  to  defend  compact  Euro- 
pean territories  by  the  many  soldiers  whom  they  force  to 
fight ; the  English  try  to  defend  without  any  compulsion 
— only  by  such  soldiers  as  they  persuade  to  serve — ^terri- 
tories far  surpassing  all  Europe  in  magnitude,  and  situated 
all  over  the  habitable  globe.  Our  Horse  Guards  and  War 
Office  may  not  be  at  all  perfect — I believe  they  are  not ; 
but  if  they  had  sufficient  recruits  selected  by  force  of  law 
— if  they  had,  as  in  Prussia,  the  absolute  command  of 
each  man’s  time  for  a few  years,  and  the  right  to  call  him 
out  afterwards  when  they  liked,  we  should  be  much  sur- 
prised at  the  sudden  ease  and  quickness  with  which  they 
did  things.  I have  no  doubt  too  that  any  accomplished 
soldier  of  the  Continent  would  reject  as  impossible  what 
we  after  a fashion  effect.  He  would  not  attempt  to  defend 
a vast  scattered  empire,  with  many  islands,  a long  frontier 
line  in  every  continent,  and  a very  tempting  bit  of  plun- 
der at  the  centre,  by  mere  volunteer  recruits,  who  mostly 
come  from  the  worst  class  of  the  people, — whom  the  Great 
Duke  called  the  scum  of  the  earth,” — who  come  in  un- 
certain numbers  year  by  year, — who  by  some  political 
accident  may  not  come  in  adequate  numbers,  or  at  all,  in 
the  year  we  need  them  most.  Our  War  Office  attempts 
what  foreign  War  Offices  (perhaps  rightly)  would  not  try 


CHAI^GES  OF  MINISTRY. 


275 


at ; their  officers  have  means  of  incalculable  force  denied 
to  ours,  though  ours  is  set  to  harder  tasks. 

Again,  the  English  navy  undertakes  to  defend  a line  of 
coast  and  a set  of  dependencies  far  surpassing  those  of  any 
continental  power.  And  the  extent  of  our  operations  is  a 
singular  difficulty  just  now.  It  requires  us  to  keep  a 
large  stock  of  ships  and  arms.  But  on  the  other  hand, 
there  are  most  important  reasons  why  we  should  not  keep 
much.  The  naval  art  and  the  military  art  are  both  in 
a state  of  transition ; the  last  discovery  of  to-day  is  out  of 
date,  and  superseded  by  an  antagonistic  discovery  to-mor- 
row. Any  large  accumulation  of  vessels  or  guns  is  sure  to 
contain  much  that  will  be  useless,  unfitting,  antediluvian, 
when  it  comes  to  be  tried.  There  are  two  cries  against 
the  Admiralty  which  go  on  side  by  side  : one  says,  We 
have  not  ships  enough,  no  ^ relief  ’ ships,  no  navy^  to  tell 
the  truth;”  the  other  cry  says,  “We  have  all  the  wrong 
ships,  all  the  wrong  guns,  and  nothing  but  the  wrong  ; in 
their  foolish  constructive  mania  the  Admiralty  have  been 
building  when  they  ought  to  have  been  waiting ; they 
have  heaped  a curious  museum  of  exploded  inventions,  but 
they  have  given  us  nothing  serviceable.”  The  two  cries 
for  opposite  policies  go  on  together,  and  blacken  our  Exe- 
cutiv5  together,  though  each  is  a defence  of  the  Executive 
against  the  other. 

Again,  the  Home  Department  in  England  struggles 
with  difficulties  of  which  abroad  they  have  long  got  rid, 
We  love  independent  “ local  authorities,”  little  centres 
of  outlying  authority.  When  the  metropolitan  ex(^eu- 


276 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


bive  most  wishes  to  act,  it  cannot  act  effectually  because 
these  lesser  bodies  hesitate,  deliberate,  or  even  disobey* 
But  local  independence  has  no  necessary  connection 
with  Parliamentary  government.  The  degree  of  local 
freedom  desirable  in  a country  varies  according  to  many 
circumstances,  and  a Parliamentary  government  may 
consist  with  any  degree  of  it.  We  certainly  ought  not  to 
debit  Parliamentary  government  as  a general  and  appli- 
cable polity  with  the  particular  vices  of  the  guardians  of 
the  poor  in  England,  though  it  is  so  debited  every  day. 

Again,  as  our  administration  has  in  England  this  pe- 
culiar difficulty,  so  on  the  other  hand  foreign  competing 
administrations  have  a peculiar  advantage.  Abroad  a 
man  under  Government  is  a superior  being ; he  is 
higher  than  the  rest  of  the  world ; he  is  envied  by 
almost  all  of  it.  This  gives  the  Government  the  easy 
pick  of  the  elite  of  the  nation.  All  clever  people  are  eager 
to  be  under  Government,  and  are  hardly  to  be  satisfied 
elsewhere.  But  in  England  there  is  no  such  superiority, 
and  the  English  have  no  such  feeling.  We  do  not  respect  a 
stamp-office  clerk,  or  an  exciseman’s  assistant.  A pursy 
grocer  considers  he  is  much  above  either.  Our  Government 
cannot  buy  for  minor  clerks  the  best  ability  of  the  nation 
in  the  cheap  currency  of  pure  honour,  and  no  govern- 
ment is  rich  enough  to  buy  very  much  of  it  in  money. 
Our  mercantile  opportunities  allure  away  the  most  ambi- 
tious minds.  The  foreign  bureaux  are  filled  with  a selec- 
tion from  the  ablest  men  of  the  nation,  but  only  a very 
few  of  the  best  men  approach  the  English  offices. 

But  these  are  neither  the  only  nor  even  the  principal 
reasons  why  our  public  administration  is  not  so  good 


CHANGES  OP  MINISTRY. 


277 


&S,  according  to  principle  and  to  the  unimpeded  effects 
of  Parliamentary  government,  it  should  be.  There  are 
two  great  causes  at  work,  which  in  their  consequences 
run  out  into  many  details,  but  which  in  their  funda- 
mental nature  may  be  briefly  described.  The  first  of 
these  causes  is  our  ignorance.  No  polity  can  get  out 
of  a nation  more  than  there  is  in  the  nation.  A free 
government  is  essentially  a government  by  persuasion ; 
and  as  are  the  people  to  be  persuaded,  and  as  are  the 
persuaders,  so  will  that  government  be.  On  many 
parts  of  our  administration  the  effect  of  our  extreme 
ignorance  is  at  once  plain.  The  foreign  policy  of 
England  has  for  many  years  been,  according  to  the 
judgment  now  in  vogue,  inconsequent,  fruitless,  casual ; 
aiming  at  no  distinct  pre-imagined  end,  based  on  no 
steadily  pre-conceived  principle.  I have  not  room  to 
discuss  with  how  much  or  how  little  abatement  this 
decisive  censure  should  be  accepted.  However,  I en- 
tirely concede  that  our  recent  foreign  policy  has  been 
open  to  very  grave  and  serious  blame.  But  would  it 
not  have  been  a miracle  if  the  English  people,  direct- 
ing their  own  policy,  and  being  what  they  are,  had 
directed  a good  policy  ? Are  they  not  above  all  nations 
divided  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  insular  both  in  situ- 
ation and  in  mind,  both  for  good  and  for  evil  ? Are 
they  not  out  of  the  current  of  common  European  causes 
and  affairs  ? Are  they  not  a race  contemptuous  of  others  ? 
Are  they  not  a race  with  no  special  education  or  culture 
as  to  the  modern  world,  and  too  often  despising  such  cul- 
ture ? Who  could  expect  such  a people  to  comprehend 


278 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


the  new  and  strange  events  of  foreign  places  ? So  far 
frona  wondering  that  the  English  Parliament  has  been 
inefficient  in  foreign  policy,  I think  it  is  wonderful,  and 
another  sign  of  the  rude,  vague  imagination  that  is  at 
the  bottom  of  our  people,  that  we  have  done  so  well  as 
we  have. 

Again,  the  very  conception  of  the  English  Constitu- 
tion, as  distinguished  from  a purely  Parliamentary  con- 
stitution is,  that  it  contains  dignified  ” parts  — parts, 
that  is,  retained,  not  for  intrinsic  use,  but  from  their 
imaginative  attraction  upon  an  uncultured  and  rude 
population.  All  such  elements  tend  to  diminish  simple 
efficiency.  They  are  like  the  additional  and  solely-orna- 
mental  wheels  introduced  into  the  clocks  of  the  middle 
ages,  which  tell  the  then  age  of  the  moon  or  the  su- 
preme constellation; — which  make  little  men  or  birds 
come  out  and  in  theatrically.  All  such  ornamental  work 
is  a source  of  friction  and  error ; it  prevents  the  time 
being  marked  accurately ; each  new  wheel  is  a new 
source  of  imperfection.  So  if  authority  is  given  to  a 
person,  not  on  account  of  his  working  fitness,  but  on  ac- 
count of  his  imaginative  efficiency,  he  will  commonly  im- 
pair good  administration.  He  may  do  something  better 
than  good  work  of  detail,  but  will  spoil  good  work  of 
detail.  The  English  aristocracy  is  often  of  this  sort.  It 
has  an  influence  over  the  people  of  vast  value  still,  and 
of  infinite  value  formerly.  But  no  man  would  select  the 
cadets  of  an  aristocratic  house  as  desirable  administrators. 
They  have  peculiar  disadvantages  in  the  acquisition  of 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTRY. 


279 


business  knowledge,  business  training,  and  business  habits, 
and  they  have  no  peculiar  advantages. 

Our  middle  class,  too,  is  very  unfit  to  give  us  the 
administrators  we  ought  to  have.  I cannot  now  discuss 
whether  all  that  is  said  against  our  education  is  well 
grounded ; it  is  called  by  an  excellent  judge  pretentious, 
insufficient,  and  unsound.”  But  I will  say  that  it  does  not 
fit  men  to  be  men  of  business  as  it  ought  to  fit  them. 
Till  lately  the  very  simple  attainments  and  habits  neces- 
sary for  a banker’s  clerk  had  a scarcity-value.  The  sort 
of  education  which  fits  a man  for  the  higher  posts  of  prac- 
tical life  is  still  very  rare ; there  is  not  even  a good  agree- 
ment as  to  what  it  is.  Our  public  officers  cannot  be  as  good 
as  the  corresponding  officers  of  some  foreign  nations  till 
our  business  education  is  as  good  as  theirs.* 

But  strong  as  is  our  ignorance  in  deteriorating  our 
administration,  another  cause  is  stronger  still.  There 
are  but  two  foreign  administrations  probably  better 
than  ours,  and  both  these  have  had  something  which 
we  have  not  had.  Theirs  in  both  cases  were  arranged 
by  a man  of  genius,  after  careful  forethought,  and  upon 
a special  design.  Napoleon  built  upon  a clear  stage 
which  the  French  Eevolution  bequeathed  him.  The  ori- 
ginality once  ascribed  to  his  edifice  was  indeed  untrue ; 
Tocqueville  and  Lavergne  have  shown  that  he  did  but 
run  up  a conspicuous  structure  in  imitation  of  a latent 

* I am  liappy  to  state  that  this  evil  is  much  diminishing.  The  improve- 
ment of  school  education  of  the  middle  class  in  the  last  twenty-five  years  if 
marvellons. 


280 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


one  before  concealed  by  the  mediaeval  complexities  of 
the  old  regime.  But  what  we  are  concerned  with  now  is, 
not  Napoleon’s  originality,  but  his  work.  He  undoubtedly 
settled  the  administration  of  France  upon  an  effective, 
consistent,  and  enduring  system  ; the  succeeding  govern- 
ments have  but  worked  the  mechanism  they  inherited 
from  him.  Frederick  the  Great  did  the  same  in  the  new 
monarchy  of  Prussia.  Both  the  French  system  and  the 
Prussian  are  new  machines,  made  in  civilised  times  to  do 
their  appropriate  work. 

The  English  offices  have  never,  since  they  were  made, 
been  arranged  with  any  reference  to  one  another;  or 
rather  they  were  never  made,  but  grew  as  each  could. 
The  sort  of  free-trade  which  prevailed  in  public  insti- 
tutions in  the  English  middle  ages  is  very  curious.  Our 
three  courts  of  law — the  Queen’s  Bench,  the  Common 
Pleas,  and  the  Exchequer — for  the  sake  of  the  fees  ex- 
tended an  originally  contracted  sphere  into  the  entire 
sphere  of  litigation.  Boni  judids  est  ampliare  jurisdic- 
tionem^  went  the  old  saying ; or,  in  English,  “It  is  the  mark 
of  a good  judge  to  augment  the  fees  of  his  com’t,”  his  own 
income,  and  the  income  of  his  subordinates.  The  cen- 
tral administration,  the  Treasury,  never  asked  any  account 
of  the  moneys  the  courts  thus  received  ; so  long  as  it  was 
not  asked  to  pay  anything,  it  was  satisfied.  Only  last  year 
one  of  the  many  remnants  of  this  system  cropped  up,  to 
the  wonder  of  the  public.  A clerk  in  the  Patent  Office 
stole  some  fees,  and  naturally  the  men  of  the  nineteenth 
century  thought  our  principal  finance  minister,  the  Chan- 
cellor of  the  Exchequer,  would  be,  as  in  France,  respon- 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTRY. 


281 


Bible  for  it.  But  the  English  law  was  different  somehow. 
The  Patent  Office  was  under  the  Lord  Chancellor,  and  the 
Court  of  Chancery  is  one  of  the  multitude  of  our  insti* 
tutions  which  owe  their  existence  to  fee  competition, — 
and  so  it  was  tlie  Lord  Chancellor’s  business  to  look  after 
the  fees,  which  of  course,  as  an  occupied  judge,  he  could 
not.  A certain  Act  of  Parliament  did  indeed  require  that 
the  fees  of  the  Patent  Office  should  be  paid  into  the 
“ Exchequer  ; ” and,  again,  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exche- 
quer,” was  thought  to  be  responsible  in  the  matter,  but 
only  by  those  who  did  not  know.  According  to  our 
system  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  is  the  enemy  of 
the  Exchequer ; a wliole  series  of  enactments  try  to  pro- 
tect it  from  him.  Until  a few  months  ago  there  was  a 
very  lucrative  sinecure  called  the  “ Comptrollership  of  the 
Exchequer,”  designed  to  guard  the  Exchequer  against  its 
Chancellor  ; and  the  last  holder.  Lord  Monteagle,  used  to 
say  he  was  the  pivot  of  the  English  Constitution.  I have 
not  room  to  explain  what  he  meant,  and  it  is  not  needful ; 
what  is  to  the  purpose  is  that,  by  an  inherited  series  of 
historical  complexities,  a defaulting  clerk  in  an  office  of 
no  litigation  was  not  under  natural  authority,  the  finance 
minister,  but  under  a far-away  judge  who  had  never  heard 
of  him. 

The  whole  office  of  the  Lord  Chancellor  is  a heap  of 
anomalies.  He  is  a judge,  and  it  is  contrary  to  obvious 
principle  that  any  part  of  administration  should  be  en- 
trusted to  a judge  ; it  is  of  very  grave  moment  that  the 
administration  of  justice  should  be  kept  clear  of  any  sinister 
temptations.  Yet  the  Lord  Chancellor,  our  chief  judge, 
19 


282 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


sits  in  the  Cabinet,  and  makes  party  speeches  in  the  Lords. 
Lord  Lyndhurst  was  a principal  Tory  politician,  and  yet 
he  presided  in  the  O’Connell  case.  Lord  Westbury  was 
in  chronic  wrangle  with  the  bishops,  but  he  gave  judg- 
meiA  upon  “ Essays  and  Eeviews.”  In  truth,  the  Lord 
Chancellor  became  a Cabinet  Minister,  because,  being 
near  the  person  of  the  sovereign,  he  was  high  in  court 
precedence,  and  not  upon  a political  theory  wrong  or 
right. 

A friend  once  told  me  that  an  intelligent  Italian  asked 
him  about  the  principal  English  officers,  and  that  he  was 
very  puzzled  to  explain  their  duties,  and  especially  to  ex- 
plain the  relation  of  their  duties  to  their  titles.  I do  not 
remember  all  the  cases,  but  I can  recollect  that  the  Italian 
could  not  comprehend  why  the  First  “ Lord  of  the  Trea- 
sury” had  as  a rule  nothing  to  do  with  the  Treasury,  or 
why  the  “ Woods  and  Forests”  looked  after  the  sewerage 
of  towns.  This  conversation  was  years  before  the  cattle 
plague,  but  I should  like  to  have  heard  the  reasons  why 
the  Privy  Council  office  had  charge  of  that  malady.  Of 
course  one  could  give  an  historical  reason,  but  I mean 
an  administrative  reason — a reason  which  would  show,  not 
how  it  came  to  have  the  duty,  but  why  in  future  it  should 
keep  it. 

But  the  unsystematic  and  casual  arrangement  of  our 
public  offices  is  not  more  striking  than  their  difference  of 
arrangement  for  the  one  purpose  they  have  in  common. 
They  all,  being  under  the  ultimate  direction  of  a Parlia- 
mentary official,  ought  to  have  the  best  means  of  bringing 
the  wholeof  the  higher  concerns  of  the  office  before  that  offi* 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTEY. 


283 


cial.  When  the  fresh  mind  rules,  the  fresh  mind  requires 
to  be  informed.  And  most  business  being  rather  alike,  the 
machinery  for  bringing  it  before  the  extrinsic  chief  ought, 
for  the  most  part,  to  be  similar  ; at  any  rate,  where  it  ie 
different,  it  ought  to  be  different  upon  reason  ; and  where 
it  is  similar,  similar  upon  reason.  Yet  there  are  almost 
no  two  offices  which  are  exactly  alike  in  the  defined  rela- 
tions of  the  permanent  official  to  the  Parliamentary  chief. 
Let  us  see.  The  army  and  navy  are  the  most  similar  in 
nature,  yet  there  is  in  the  army  a permanent  outside  office, 
called  the  Horse  Guards,  to  which  there  is  nothing  else 
like.  In  the  navy,  there  is  a curious  anomaly — a Board 
of  Admiralty,  also  changing  with  every  government,  which 
is  to  instruct  the  First  Lord  in  what  he  does  not  know. 
The  relations  between  the  Phrst  Lord  and  the  Board  have 
not  always  been  easily  intelligible,  and  those  between  the 
War  Office  and  the  Horse  Guards  are  in  extreme  confu- 
sion. Even  now  a Parliamentary  paper  relating  to  them 
has  just  been  presented  to  the  House  of  Commons,  which 
says  the  fundamental  and  ruling  document  cannot  be 
traced  beyond  the  possession  of  Sir  George  Lewis,  who 
was  Secretary  for  War  three  years  since  ; and  the  confused 
details  are  endless,  as  they  must  be  in  a chronic  contention 
of  offices.  At  the  Board  of  Trade  there  is  only  the  hypo- 
thesis of  a Board ; it  has  long  ceased  to  exist.  Even  the 
President  and  Vice-President  do  not  regularly  meet  for 
the  transaction  of  affairs.  The  patent  of  the  latter  is 
only  to  transact  business  in  the  absence  of  the  President, 
and  if  the  two  are  not  intimate,  and  the  President  chooses 
to  act  himself,  the  Vice-President  sees  no  papers,  and 


284 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


does  nothing.  At  the  Treasury  the  shadow  of  a Board 
exists,  but  its  members  have  no  power,  and  are  the  very 
officials  whom  Canning  said  existed  to  make  a House,  to 
Keep  a House,  and  to  cheer  the  ministers.  The  India 
Office  has  a fixed  “ Council ; ” but  the  Colonial  Office^ 
which  rules  over  our  other  dependencies  and  colonies,  has 
not,  and  never  had,  the  vestige  of  a council.  Any  of  these 
varied  Constitutions  may  be  right,  but  all  of  them  can 
scarcely  be  right. 

In  truth  the  real  constitution  of  a permanent  office  to 
be  ruled  by  a permanent  chief  has  been  discussed  only 
once  in  England : that  case  was  a peculiar  and  anomalous 
one,  and  the  decision  then  taken  was  dubious.  A new 
India  Office,  when  the  East  India  Company  was  abolished, 
had  to  be  made.  The  late  Mr.  James  Wilson,  a consum- 
mate judge  of  administrative  affairs,  then  maintained  that 
no  council  ought  to  be  appointed  eo  nomine^  but  that  the 
true  Council  of  a Cabinet  minister  was  a certain  number 
of  highly  paid,  much  occupied,  responsible  secretaries, 
whom  the  minister  could  consult,  either  separately  or 
together,  as,  and  when,  he  chose.  Such  secretaries,  Mr. 
Wilson  maintained,  must  be  able,  for  no  minister  will 
sacrifice  his  own  convenience,  and  endanger  his  own  repu- 
tation by  appointing  a fool  to  a post  so  near  himself,  and 
where  he  can  do  much  harm.  A member  of  a Board  may 
easily  be  incompetent ; if  some  other  members  and  the 
chairman  are  able,  the  addition  of  one  or  two  stupid  men 
will  not  be  felt ; they  will  receive  their  salaries  and  do 
nothing.  But  a permanent  under-secretary,  charged  with 
a real  control  over  much  important  business,  must  be 


CHANGES  OF  MINISTRY. 


285 


able,  or  his  superior  will  be  blamed,  and  there  will  be  a 
scrape  in  Parliament.” 

I cannot  here  discuss,  nor  am  I competent  to  discuss, 
the  best  mode  of  composing  public  offices,  and  of  adjust- 
ing them  to  a Parliamentary  head.  There  ought  to  be 
on  record  skilled  evidence  on  the  subject  before  a person 
without  any  specific  experience  can  to  any  purpose  think 
about  it.  But  I may  observe  that  the  plan  which  Mr. 
Wilson  suggested  is  that  followed  in  the  most  successful 
part  of  our  administration,  the  “Ways  and  Means”  park 
When  the  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer  prepares  a Budget, 
he  requires  from  the  responsible  heads  of  the  revenue  de- 
partment their  estimates  of  the  public  revenue  upon  the 
preliminary  hypothesis  that  no  change  is  made,  but  that 
last  year’s  taxes  will  continue ; if,  afterwards,  he  thinks  of 
making  an  alteration,  he  requires  a report  on  that  too. 
If  he  has  to  renew  Exchequer  bills,  or  operate  anyhow  in 
the  City,  he  takes  the  opinion,  oral  or  written,  of  the 
ablest  and  most  responsible  person  at  the  National  Debt 
Office,  and  the  ablest  and  most  responsible  at  the  Trea- 
sury. Mr.  Gladstone,  by  far  the  greatest  Chancellor  of 
the  Exchequer  of  this  generation,  one  of  the  very  greatest 
of  any  generation,  has  often  gone  out  of  his  way  to  express 
his  obligation  to  these  responsible  skilled  advisers.  The 
more  a man  knows  himself,  the  more  habituated  he  is  to 
action  in  general,  the  more  sure  he  is  to  take  and  to 
value  responsible  counsel  emanating  from  ability  and  sug- 
gested by  experience.  That  this  principle  brings  good 
fruit  is  certain.  We  have,  by  unequivocal  admission,  the 
best  budget  in  the  world,  Why  should  not  the  rest  of 


286 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


our  administration  be  as  good  if  we  did  but  apply  the 
same  method  to  it  ? 


I leave  this  to  stand  as  it  was  originally  written  since 
it  does  not  profess  to  rest  on  my  own  knowledge,  and  only 
offers  a suggestion  on  good  authority.  Eecent  experience 
seems,  however,  to  show  that  in  all  great  administrative 
departments  there  ought  to  be  some  one  permanent  re- 
sponsible head  through  whom  the  changing  Parliamentary 
chief  always  acts,  from  whom  he  learns  everything,  and 
to  whom  he  communicates  everything.  The  daily  work  of 
the  Exchequer  is  a trifle  compared  with  that  of  the  Admi- 
ralty or  the  Home  Office,  and  therefore  a single  principal 
head  is  not  there  so  necessary.  But  the  preponderance 
of  evidence  at  present  is  that  in  all  offices  of  very  great 
work  some  one  such  head  is  essential. 


VIIL 


ITS  SUPPOSED  CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 

In  a former  essay  I devoted  an  elaborate  discussion  to 
the  comparison  of  the  royal  and  unroyal  form  of  Par- 
liamentary Grovernment.  I showed  that  at  the  form- 
ation of  a ministry,  and  during  the  continuance  of  a 
ministry,  a really  sagacious  monarch  might  be  of  rare 
use.  I ascertained  that  it  was  a mistake  to  fancy  that 
at  such  times  a constitutional  monarch  had  no  role  and 
no  duties.  But  I proved  likewise  that  the  temper,  the 
disposition,  and  the  faculties  then  needful  to  fit  a consti- 
tutional monarch  for  usefulness  were  very  rare,  at  least 
as  rare  as  the  faculties  of  a great  absolute  monarch,  and 
that  a common  man  in  that  place  is  apt  to  do  at  least  as 
much  harm  as  good — perhaps  more  harm.  But  in  that 
essay  I could  not  discuss  fully  the  functions  of  a king  at 
the  conclusion  of  an  administration,  for  then  the  most 
peculiar  parts  of  the  English  government — the  power  to 
dissolve  the  House  of  Commons,  and  the  power  to  create 
new  peers — come  into  play,  and  until  the  nature  of  the 
House  of  Lords  and  the  nature  of  the  House  of  Commons 
had  been  explained,  I had  no  premises  for  an  argument 
as  to  the  characteristic  action  of  the  king  upon  them 


288 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


We  have  since  considered  the  functions  of  the  two  houses^ 
and  also  the  effects  of  changes  of  ministry  on  our  adminis- 
trative system ; we  are  now,  therefore,  in  a position  to  dis- 
cuss the  functions  of  a king  at  the  end  of  an  administration. 

I may  seem  over  formal  in  this  matter,  but  I am 
very  formal  on  purpose.  It  appears  to  me  that  the 
functions  of  our  executive  in  dissolving  the  Commons 
and  augmenting  the  Peers  are  among  the  most  important, 
and  the  least  appreciated,  parts  of  our  whole  government, 
and  that  hundreds  of  errors  have  been  made  in  copying 
the  English  constitution  from  not  comprehending  them. 

Hobbes  told  us  long  ago,  and  everybody  now  under- 
stands that  there  must  be  a supreme  authority,  a con- 
clusive power,  in  every  state  on  every  point  somewhere. 
The  idea  of  government  involves  it — when  that  idea  is 
properly  understood.  But  there  are  two  classes  of  govern- 
ments. In  one  the  supreme  determining  power  is  upon 
all  points  the  same ; in  the  other,  that  ultimate  power  is 
different  upon  different  points — now  resides  in  one  part 
of  the  constitution,  and  now  in  another.  The  Americans 
thought  that  they  were  imitating  the  English  in  making 
their  constitution  upon  the  last  principle — in  having  one 
ultimate  authority  for  one  sort  of  matter,  and  another  for 
another  sort.  But  in  truth,  the  English  constitution  is 
the  type  of  the  opposite  species ; it  has  only  one  authority 
for  all  sorts  of  matters.  To  gain  a living  conception  of 
the  difference  let  us  see  what  the  Americans  did. 

First,  they  altogether  retained  what,  in  part,  they  could 
not  help,  the  sovereignty  of  the  separate  states.  A fund- 
amental article  of  the  Federal  constitution  says  that  the 


CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 


289 


powers  not  delegated  ” to  the  central  government  are 
reserved  to  the  states  respectively.”  And  the  whole 
recent  history  of  the  Union — perhaps  all  its  history — ^has 
been  more  determined  by  that  enactment  than  by  any 
other  single  cause.  The  sovereignty  of  the  principal 
matters  of  state  has  rested  not  with  the  highest  govern- 
ment, but  with  the  subordinate  government.  The  Federal 
government  could  not  touch  slavery — the  “ domestic  insti- 
tution ” which  divided  the  Union  into  two  halves,  unlike 
one  another  in  morals,  politics,  and  social  condition,  and 
at  last  set  them  to  fight.  This  determining  political  fact 
was  not  in  the  jurisdiction  of  the  highest  government  in 
the  country,  where  you  might  expect  its  highest  wisdom, 
nor  in  the  central  government,  where  you  might  look  for 
impartiality,  but  in  local  governments,  where  petty  in- 
terests were  sure  to  be  considered,  and  where  only  inferior 
abilities  were  likely  to  be  employed.  The  capital  fact 
was  reserved  for  the  minor  jurisdictions.  Again  there 
has  been  only  one  matter  comparable  to  slavery  in  the 
United  States,  and  that  has  been  vitally  affected  by 
the  State  governments  also.  Their  ultra-democracy  is  not 
a result  of  Federal  legislation,  but  of  State  legislation. 
The  Federal  constitution  deputed  one  of  the  main 
items  of  its  structure  to  the  subordinate  governments. 
One  of  its  clauses  provides  that  the  suffrages  for  the  Fe- 
deral House  of  Eepresentative  shall  be,  in  each  State,  the 
same  as  for  the  most  numerous  branch  of  the  legislature 
of  that  State ; and  as  each  State  fixes  the  suffrage  foi  its 
own  legislatures,  the  States  altogether  fix  the  suffrage 
for  the  Federal  Lower  Chamber.  By  another  clause  of 


290 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


the  Federal  constitution  the  States  fix  the  electoral  quali- 
fication for  voting  at  a Presidential  election.  The  pri- 
mary element  in  a free  government — the  determination 
how  many  people  shall  have  a share  in  it — in  America 
depends  not  on  the  government  but  on  certain  subordinate 
local,  and  sometimes,  as  in  the  South  now,  hostile 
bodies. 

Doubtless  the  framers  of  the  constitution  had  not  much 
choice  in  the  matter.  The  wisest  of  them  were  anxious 
to  get  as  much  power  for  the  central  government,  and  to 
leave  as  little  to  the  local  governments  as  they  could.  But 
a cry  was  got  up  that  this  wisdom  would  create  a tyranny 
and  impair  freedom,  and  with  that  help,  local  jealousy 
triumphed  easily.  All  Federal  government  is,  in  truth, 
a case  in  which  what  I have  called  the  dignified  elements 
of  government  do  not  coincide  with  the  serviceable  ele- 
ments. At  the  beginning  of  every  league  the  separate 
States  are  the  old  governments  which  attract  and  keep 
the  love  and  loyalty  of  the  people ; the  Federal  govern- 
ment is  a useful  thing,  but  new  and  unattractive.  It  must 
concede  much  to  the  State  governments,  for  it  is  indebted 
to  them  for  motive  power:  they  are  the  governments 
which  the  people  voluntarily  obey.  When  the  State 
governments  are  not  thus  loved,  they  vanish  as  the  little 
Italian  and  the  little  Grerman  potentates  vanished;  no 
federation  is  needed ; a single  central  government  rules 
all. 

But  the  division  of  the  sovereign  authority  in  the 
American  constitution  is  far  more  complex  than  this. 
The  part  of  that  authority  left  to  the  Federal  goyera^ 


CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 


291 


ment  is  itself  divided  and  subdivided.  The  greatest  in- 
stance is  the  most  obvious.  The  Congress  rules  the  law, 
out  the  President  rules  the  administration.  One  means 
of  unity  the  constitution  does  give;  the  President  can 
veto  laws  he  does  not  like.  But  when  two-thirds  of  both 
houses  are  unanimous  (as  has  lately  happened),  they  can 
overrule  the  President  and  make  the  laws  without  him ; 
so  here  there  are  three  separate  repositories  of  the  legis- 
lative power  in  different  cases  : first,  Congress  and  the 
President  when  they  agree  > next,  the  President  when  he 
effectually  exerts  his  power ; then  the  requisite  two-thirds 
of  Congress  when  they  overrule  the  President.  And  the 
President  need  not  be  over-active  in  carrying  out  a law 
he  does  not  approve  of.  He  may  indeed  be  impeached  for 
gross  neglect ; but  between  criminal  non-feasance  and 
zealous  activity  there  are  infinite  degrees.  Mr.  Johnson 
does  not  carry  out  the  Freedman’s  Bureau  Bill  as  Mr. 
Lincoln,  who  approved  of  it,  would  have  carried  it  out. 
The  American  constitution  has  a special  contrivance  for 
varying  the  supreme  legislative  authority  in  different 
cases,  and  dividing  the  administrative  authority  from  it 
in  all  cases. 

But  the  administrative  power  itself  is  not  left  thus 
simple  and  undivided.  One  most  important  part  of 
administration  is  international  policy,  and  the  supreme 
authority  here  is  not  in  the  President,  still  less  in  the 
House  of  Representatives,  but  in  the  Senate.  The  Presi- 
dent can  only  make  treaties,  “provided  two-thirds  of 
Senators  present”  concur.  The  sovereignty  therefore  for 
the  greatest  international  questions  is  in  a different 


292 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


part  of  the  State  altogether  from  any  common  adminis^ 
trative  or  legislative  question.  It  is  put  in  a place  by 
itself. 

Again,  the  Congress  declares  war,  but  they  would  find  it 
very  difficult,  according  to  the  recent  construction  of  their 
laws,  to  compel  the  President  to  make  a peace.  The 
authors  of  the  constitution  doubtless  intended  that  Con- 
gress should  be  able  to  control  the  American  executive  as 
our  Parliament  controls  ours.  They  placed  the  granting 
of  supplies  in  the  House  of  Eepresentatives  exclusively. 
But  they  forgot  to  look  after  ‘ paper  money ; ’ and  now  it 
has  been  held  that  the  President  has  power  to  emit  such 
money  without  consulting  Congress  at  all.  The  first  part 
of  the  late  war  was  so  carried  on  by  Mr.  Lincoln  ; he  relied 
not  on  the  grants  of  Congress,  but  on  the  prerogative  of 
emission.  It  sounds  a joke,  but  it  is  true  nevertheless, 
that  this  power  to  issue  greenbacks  is  decided  to  belong 
to  the  President  as  commander-in-chief  of  the  army ; it 
is  part  of  what  was  called  the  war  power.”  In  truth, 
money  was  wanted  in  the  late  war,  and  the  administration 
got  it  in  the  readiest  way ; and  the  nation,  glad  not  to  be 
more  taxed,  wholly  approved  of  it.  But  the  fact  remains 
that  the  President  has  now,  by  precedent  and  decision,  a 
mighty  power  to  continue  a war  without  the  consent  of 
Congress,  and  perhaps  against  its  wish.  Against  the 
united  will  of  the  American  people  a President  would  of 
course  be  impotent ; such  is  the  genius  of  the  place  and 
nation  that  he  would  never  think  of  it.  But  when  the 
nation  was  (as  of  late)  divided  into  two  parties,  one  cleav- 
ing to  the  President  the  other  to  the  Congress,  the  now 


CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 


293 


unquestionable  power  of  the  President  to  issue  paper- 
money  may  give  him  the  power  to  continue  the  war  though 
Parliament  (as  we  should  speak)  may  enjoin  the  war  to 
cease. 

And  lastly,  the  whole  region  of  the  very  highest  ques- 
tions is  withdrawn  from  the  ordinary  authorities  of  the^ 
State,  and  reserved  for  special  authorities.  The  consti- 
tution ” cannot  be  altered  by  any  authorities  within  the 
constitution,  but  only  by  authorities  without  it.  Every 
alteration  of  it,  however  urgent  or  however  trifling,  must 
be  sanctioned  by  a complicated  proportion  of  States  or 
legislatures.  The  consequence  is  that  the  most  obvious 
evils  cannot  be  quickly  remedied ; that  the  most  absurd 
fictions  must  be  framed  to  evade  the  plain  sense  of  mis- 
chievous clauses  ; that  a clumsy  working  and  curious  tech- 
nicality mark  the  politics  of  a rough-and-ready  people. 
The  practical  arguments  and  the  legal  disquisitions  in 
America  are  often  like  those  of  trustees  carrying  out  a mis- 
drawn  will — the  sense  of  what  they  mean  is  good,  but  it 
can  never  be  worked  out  fully  or  defended  simply,  so  ham- 
pered is  it  by  the  old  words  of  an  old  testament. 

These  instances  (and  others  might  be  added)  prove,  as 
history  proves  too,  what  was  the  principal  thought  of  the 
American  constitution-makers.  They  shrank  from  placing  ; 
sovereign  power  anywhere.  They  feared  that  it  would 
generate  tyranny;  Greorge  III.  had  been  a tyrant  to 
them,  and  come  what  might,  they  would  not  make  a 
George  III.  Accredited  theories  said  that  the  Englisn 
Constitution  divided  the  sovereign  authority,  and  in  imi- 
tation the  Americans  split  up  theirs. 


294 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION 


The  result  is  seen  now.  At  the  critical  moment  of  theii 
history  there  is  no  ready,  deciding  power.  The  South, 
after  a great  rebellion,  lies  at  the  feet  of  its  conquerors  ; 
its  conquerors  have  to  settle  what  to  do  with  it.*  They 
must  decide  the  conditions  upon  which  the  Secessionists 
shall  again  become  fellow  citizens,  shall  again  vote,  again 
be  represented,  again  perhaps  govern.  The  most  difficult 
of  problems  is  how  to  change  late  foes  into  free  friends. 
The  safety  of  their  great  public  debt,  and  with  that  debt 
their  future  credit  and  their  whole  power  in  future  wars, 
may  depend  on  their  not  giving  too  much  power  to  those 
who  must  see  in  the  debt  the  cost  of  their  own  subjugation, 
and  who  must  have  an  inclination  towards  the  repudiation 
of  it,  now  that  their  own  debt, — the  cost  of  their  defence, 
— has  been  repudiated.  A race,  too,  formerly  enslaved, 
is  now  at  the  mercy  of  men  who  hate  and  despise  it,  and 
those  who  set  it  free  are  bound  to  give  it  a fair  chance 
for  new  life.  The  slave  was  formerly  protected  by  his 
chains  ; he  was  an  article  of  value ; but  now  he  belongs 
to  himself,  no  one  but  himself  has  an  interest  in  his  life  ; 
and  he  is  at  the  mercy  of  the  “ mean  whites,”  whose  labour 
he  depreciates,  and  who  regard  him  with  a loathing 
hatred.  The  greatest  moral  duty  ever  set  before  a govern- 
ment, and  the  most  fearful  political  problem  ever  set 
before  a government,  are  now  set  before  the  American. 
But  there  is  no  decision,  and  no  possibility  of  a de- 
cision. The  President  wants  one  course,  and  has  power  to 
prevent  any  other ; the  Congress  wants  another  course, 

* This  was  written  just  after  the  close  of  the  civil  war,  but  I do  not 
tnow  that  the  great  problem  stated  in  it  has  as  jet  been  ade<^uatelj  solved. 


CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 


295 


And  has  power  to  prevent  any  other.  The  splitting  of 
sovereignty  into  many  parts  amounts  to  there  being  no 
sovereign. 

The  Americans  of  1787  thought  they  were  copying 
the  English  Constitution,  but  they  were  contriving  a 
contrast  to  it.  Just  as  the  American  is  the  type  of 
composite  governments,  in  which  the  supreme  power  is 
divided  between  many  bodies  and  functionaries,  so  the 
English  is  the  type  of  simple  constitutions,  in  which  the 
ultimate  power  upon  all  questions  is  in  the  hands  of  the 
same  persons. 

The  ultimate  authority  in  the  English  Constitution  is  a 
newly-elected  House  of  Commons.  No  matter  whether 
the  question  upon  which  it  decides  be  administrative  or 
legislative  ; no  matter  whether  it  concerns  high  matters 
of  the  essential  constitution  or  small  matters  of  daily 
detail ; no  matter  whether  it  be  a question  of  making  a 
war  or  continuing  a war ; no  matter  whether  it  be  the 
imposing  a tax  or  the  issuing  a paper  currency ; no  mat- 
ter whether  it  be  a question  relating  to  India,  or  Ireland, 
or  London, — a new  House  of  Commons  can  despotically 
and  finally  resolve. 

The  House  of  Commons  may,  as  was  explained,  assent 
in  minor  matters  to  the  revision  of  the  House  of  Lords, 
and  submit  in  matters  about  which  it  cares  little  to  the 
suspensive  veto  of  the  House  of  Lords ; but  when  sure 
of  the  popular  assent,  and  when  freshly  elected,  it  is 
absolute, — it  can  rule  as  it  likes  and  decide  as  it  likes. 
And  it  can  take  the  best  security  that  it  does  not  d 3cide 
in  vain.  It  can  ensure  that  its  decrees  shall  be  exc  ;.uted, 


296 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


for  it,  and  it  alone,  appoints  the  executive ; it  can  inflict 
the  most  severe  of  all  penalties  on  neglect,  for  it  can 
remove  the  executive.  It  can  choose,  to  effect  its  wishes, 
those  who  wish  the  same ; and  so  its  will  is  sure  to  be 
done.  A stipulated  majority  of  both  Houses  of  the  Ame- 
rican Congress  can  overrule  by  stated  enactment  their 
executive ; but  the  popular  branch  of  our  legislature 
can  make  and  unmake  ours. 

The  English  constitution,  in  a word,  is  framed  on  the 
principle  of  choosing  a single  sovereign  authority,  and 
making  it  good : the  American,  upon  the  principle  of 
having  many  sovereign  authorities,  and  hoping  that  their 
multitude  may  atone  for  their  inferiority.  The  Americans 
now  extol  their  institutions,  and  so  defraud  themselves  of 
their  due  praise.  But  if  they  had  not  a genius  for  poli- 
tics ; if  they  had  hot  a moderation  in  action  singularly 
curious  where  superficial  speech  is  so  violent ; if  they  had 
not  a regard  for  law,  such  as  no  great  people  have  yet 
evinced,  and  infinitely  surpassing  ours, — the  multiplicity 
of  authorities  in  the  American  Constitution  would  long 
ago  have  brought  it  to  a bad  end.  Sensible  shareholders, 
I have  heard  a shrewd  attorney  say,  can  work  any  deed  of 
settlement ; and  so  the  men  of  Massachusetts  could,  I 
believe,  work  any  constitution.*  But  political  philosophy 
must  analyse  political  history ; it  must  distinguish  what 
is  due  to  the  excellence  of  the  people,  and  what  to  the  ex- 
cellence of  the  laws  ; it  must  carefully  calculate  the  exact 
effect  of  each  part  of  the  constitution,  though  thus  it 

* Of  course  I am  not  speaking  here  of  the  South  and  South-East,  as  they 
aow  are.  How  any  free  government  is  to  exist  iu  societies  where  so  mau« 
bad  elements  are  so  much  perturbed,  I cannot  imagine. 


CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 


297 


may  destroy  many  an  idol  of  the  multitude,  and  detect 
the  secret  of  utility  where  but  few  imagined  it  to  lie. 

How  important  singleness  and  unity  are  in  political 
action  no  one,  I imagine,  can  doubt.  We  may  distinguish 
and  define  its  parts ; but  policy  is  a unit  and  a whole. 
It  acts  by  laws — by  administrators  ; it  requires  now  one, 
now  the  other ; unless  it  can  easily  move  both  it  will  be 
impeded  soon ; unless  it  has  an  absolute  command  of  both 
its  work  will  be  imperfect.  The  interlaced  character  of 
human  affairs  requires  a single  determining  energy ; a 
distinct  force  for  each  artificial  compartment  will  make 
but  a motley  patchwork,  if  it  live  long  enough  to  make 
anything.  The  excellence  of  the  British  Constitution  is 
that  it  has  achieved  this  unity ; that  in  it  the  sovereign 
power  is  single,  possible,  and  good. 

The  success  is  primarily  due  to  the  peculiar  provision 
of  the  English  Constitution,  which  places  the  choice  of 
the  executive  in  the  people’s  house ; ” but  it  could  not 
have  been  thoroughly  achieved  except  for  two  parts,  which 
I venture  to  call  the  ^^safety-valve”  of  the  constitution, 
and  the  regulator.” 

The  safety-valve  is  the  peculiar  provision  of  the  consti- 
tution, of  which  I spoke  at  great  length  in  my  essay  on 
the  House  of  Lords.  Tlie  head  of  the  executive  can  over- 
come the  resistance  of  the  second  chamber  by  choosing  new 
members  of  that  chamber;  if  he  do  not  find  a majority, 
he  can  make  a majority.  This  is  a safety-valve  of  the 
truest  kind.  It  enables  the  popular  will — the  will  of 
which  the  executive  is  the  exponent,  the  will  of  which  it  is 
the  appointee — to  carry  out  within  the  constitution  de- 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


sires  and  conceptions  which  one  branch  of  the  constitution 
dislikes  and  resists.  It  lets  forth  a dangerous  accumula- 
tion of  inhibited  power,  which  might  sweep  this  constitu- 
tion before  it,  as  like  accumulations  have  often  swept  away 
like  constitutions. 

The  regulator,  as  I venture  to  call  it,  of  our  single 
sovereignty  is  the  power  of  dissolving  the  otherwise 
sovereign  chamber  confided  to  the  chief  executive.  The 
defects  of  the  popular  branch  of  a legislature  as  a 
sovereign  have  been  expounded  at  length  in  a previous 
essay.  Briefly,  they  may  be  summed  up  in  three 
accusations. 

First.  Caprice  is  the  commonest  and  most  formidable 
vice  of  a choosing  chamber.  Wherever  in  our  colonies 
parliamentary  government  is  unsuccessful,  or  is  alleged 
to  be  unsuccessful,  this  is  the  vice  which  first  impairs  it. 
The  assembly  cannot  be  induced  to  maintain  any  admi- 
nistration ; it  shifts  its  selection  now  from  one  minister  to 

I 

another  minister,  and  in  consequence  there  is  no  govern- 
ment at  all. 

Secondly.  The  very  remedy  for  such  caprice  entails 
another  evil.  The  only  mode  by  which  a cohesive  majo- 
rity and  a lasting  administration  can  be  upheld  in  a Par- 
liamentary government,  is  party  organisation ; but  that 
organisation  itself  tends  to  aggravate  party  violence  and 
party  animosity.  It  is,  in  substance,  subjecting  the  whole 
nation  to  the  rule  of  a section  of  the  nation,  selected 
because  of  its  speciality.  Parliamentary  government  is, 
in  its  essence,  a sectarian  government,  and  is  possible  only 
when  sects  are  cohesive. 


CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 


299 


Thirdly.  A parliament,  like  every  other  sort  of  sove- 
reign, has  peculiar  feelings,  peculiar  prejudices,  peculiar 
interests ; and  it  may  pursue  these  in  opposition  to  the 
desires,  and  even  in  opposition  to  the  well-being  of  the 
nation.  It  has  its  selfishness  as  well  as  its  caprice  and 
its  parties. 

The  mode  in  which  the  regulating  wheel  of  our  con- 
stitution produces  its  effect  is  plain.  It  does  not  impair 
the  authority  of  Parliaments  as  a species,  but  it  impairs 
the  power  of  the  individual  Parliament.  It  enables  a 
particular  person  outside  parliament  to  say,  You  Mem- 
bers of  Parliament  are  not  doing  your  duty.  You  are 
gratifying  caprice  at  the  cost  of  the  nation.  You  are  in- 
dulging party  spirit  at  the  cost  of  the  nation.  You  are 
helping  yourself  at  the  cost  of  the  nation.  I will  see 
whether  the  nation  approves  what  you  are  doing  or  not ; 
I will  appeal  from  Parliament  No.  1 to  Parliament 
No.  2.” 

By  far  the  best  way  to  appreciate  this  peculiar  pro- 
vision of  our  constitution  is  to  trace  it  in  action, — to 
see,  as  we  saw  before  of  the  other  powers  of  English 
royalty,  how  far  it  is  dependent  on  the  existence  of  an 
hereditary  king,  and  how  far  it  can  be  exercised  by  a 
premier  whom  Parliament  elects.  When  we  examine 
the  nature  of  the  particular  person  required  to  exercise 
the  power,  a vivid  idea  of  that  power  is  itself  brought 
home  to  us. 

First.  As  to  the  caprice  of  parliament  in  the  choice 
of  a premier,  who  is  the  best  person  to  check  it  ? Clearly 
the  premier  himself.  He  is  the  person  most  interested 


300 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


in  maintaining  his  administration,  and  therefore  the  most 
likely  person  to  use  efficiently  and  dexterously  the  power 
by  which  it  is  to  he  maintained.  The  intervention  of  an 
extrinsic  king  occasions  a difficulty.  A capricious  Parlia- 
ment may  always  hope  that  his  caprice  may  coincide  with 
theirs.  In  the  days  when  George  III.  assailed  his  govern- 
ments, the  premier  was  habitually  deprived  of  his  due 
authority.  Intrigues  were  encouraged  because  it  was 
always  dubious  whether  the  king-hated  minister  would  be 
permitted  to  appeal  from  the  intriguers,  and  always  a 
chance  that  the  conspiring  monarch  might  appoint  one  of 
the  conspirators  to  be  premier  in  his  room.  The  caprice 
of  Parliament  is  better  checked  when  the  faculty  of  dis- 
solution is  intrusted  to  its  appointee,  than  when  it  is  set 
apart  in  an  outlying  and  an  alien  authority. 

But,  on  the  contrary,  the  party  zeal  and  the  self-seeking 
of  Parliament  are  best  checked  by  an  authority  which 
has  no  connection  with  Parliament  or  dependence  upon 
it — supposing  that  such  authority  is  morally  and  intellec- 
tually equal  to  the  performance  of  the  intrusted  function. 
The  Prime  Minister  obviously  being  the  nominee  of  a 
party  majority  is  likely  to  share  its  feeling,  and  is  sure  to 
be  obliged  to  say  that  he  shares  it.  The  actual  contact 
with  affairs  is  indeed  likely  to  purify  him  from  many  pre- 
judices, to  tame  him  of  many  fanaticisms,  to  beat  out  of 
him  many  errors.  The  present  Conservative  Government 
contains  more  than  one  member  who  regards  his  party  as 
intellectually  benighted;  who  either  never  speaks  their 
peculiar  dialect,  or  who  speaks  it  condescendingly,  and 
with  an  aside;”  who  respects  their  accumulated  preju- 


CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 


301 


dices  as  the  “ potential  energies  ” on  which  he  subsists,  but 
who  despises  them  while  he  lives  by  them.  Years  ago 
Mr.  Disraeli  called  Sir  Eobert  Peel’s  Ministry — the  last 
Conservative  Ministry  that  had  real  power — “ an  organised 
hypocrisy,”  so  much  did  the  ideas  of  its  head  ” differ  from 
the  sensations  of  its  “ tail.”  Probably  he  now  compre- 
hends— if  he  did  not  always — that  the  air  of  Downing 
Street  brings  certain  ideas  to  those  who  live  there,  and 
that  the  hard,  compact  prejudices  of  opposition  are  soon 
melted  and  mitigated  in  the  great  gulf  stream  of  affairs. 
Lord  Palmerston,  too,  was  a typical  example  of  a leader 
lulling,  rather  than  arousing,  assuaging  rather  than  acer- 
bating the  minds  of  his  followers.  But  though  the  com- 
posing effect  of  close  difficulties  will  commonly  make  a 
premier  cease  to  be  an  immoderate  partisan,  yet  a partisan 
to  some  extent  he  must  be,  and  a violent  one  he  may  be  ; 
and  in  that  case  he  is  not  a good  person  to  check  the 
party.  When  the  leading  sect  (so  to  speak)  in  Parlia- 
ment is  doing  what  the  nation  do  not  like,  an  instant  ap- 
peal ought  to  be  registered,  and  Parliament  ought  to  be 
dissolved.  But  a zealot  of  a premier  will  not  appeal ; he 
will  follow  his  formulae  ; he  will  believe  he  is  doing  good 
service  when,  perhaps,  he  is  but  pushing  to  unpopular 
consequences  the  narrow  maxims  of  an  inchoate  theory. 
At  such  a minute  a constitutional  king — such  as  Leopold 
the  First  was,  and  as  Prince  Albert  might  have  been — 
is  invaluable ; he  can  and  will  prevent  Parliament  from 
hurting  the  nation. 

Again,  too,  on  the  selfishness  of  Parliament  an  extrinsic 
check  is  clearly  more  efficient  than  an  intrinsic.  A premier 


302 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


who  is  madb  by  Parliament  may  share  the  bad  impulses  of 
those  who  chose  him ; or,  at  any  rate,  he  may  have  made 
‘^capital”  out  of  them — he  may  have  seemed  to  share  them. 
The  self-interests,  the  jobbing  propensities  of  the  assembly 
are  sure  indeed  to  be  of  very  secondary  interest  to  him. 
What  he  will  care  most  for  is  the  permanence,  is  the  in- 
terest— whether  corrupt  or  uncorrupt — of  his  own  ministry. 
He  will  be  disinclined  to  anything  coarsely  unpopular. 
In  the  order  of  nature,  a new  assembly  must  come  before 
long,  and  he  will  be  indisposed  to  shock  the  feelings  of 
the  electors  from  whom  that  assembly  must  emanate. 
But  though  the  interest  of  the  minister  is  inconsistent 
with  appalling  jobbery,  he  will  be  inclined  to  mitigated 
jobbery.  He  will  temporise ; he  will  try  to  give  a seemly 
dress  to  unseemly  matters ; to  do  as  much  harm  as  will 
content  the  assembly,  and  yet  not  so  much  harm  as  will 
offend  the  nation.  He  will  not  shrink  from  becoming  a 
particeps  criminis ; he  will  but  endeavour  to  dilute  the 
crime.  The  intervention  of  an  extrinsic,  impartial,  and 
capable  authority — if  such  can  be  found — ^will  undoubt- 
edly restrain  the  covetousness  as  well  as  the  factiousness 
of  a choosing  assembly. 

But  can  such  a head  be  found  ? In  one  case  I think  it 
has  been  found.  Our  colonial  governors  are  precisely  Dei 
ex  machind.  They  are  always  intelligent,  for  they  have 
to  live  by  a difficult  trade ; they  are  nearly  sure  to  be  im- 
partial, for  they  come  from  the  ends  of  the  earth ; they 
are  sure  not  to  participate  in  the  selfish  desires  of  any 
colonial  class  or  body,  for  long  before  those  desires  can 
have  attained  fruition  they  will  have  passed  to  the  other 


CHECKS  BALANCES. 


303 


side  of  the  world,  be  busy  with  other  faces  and  other 
minds,  be  almost  out  of  hearing  what  happens  in  a region 
they  have  half  forgotten.  A colonial  governor  is  a super- 
parliamentary authority,  animated  by  a wisdom  which  is 
probably  in  quantity  considerable,  and  is  different  from 
that  of  the  local  Parliament,  even  if  not  above  it.  But 
even  in  this  case  the  advantage  of  this  extrinsic  authority 
is  purchased  at  a heavy  price — a price  which  must  not  be 
made  light  of,  because  it  is  often  worth  paying.  A colo- 
nial governor  is  a ruler  who  has  no  permanent  interest  in 
the  colony  he  governs ; who  perhaps  had  to  look  for  it  in 
the  map  when  he  was  sent  thither ; who  takes  years  before 
he  really  understands  its  parties  and  its  controversies ; 
who,  though  without  prejudice  himself,  is  apt  to  be  a 
slave  to  the  prejudices  of  local  people  near  him ; who  in- 
evitably, and  almost  laudably,  governs  not  in  the  interest 
of  the  colony,  which  he  may  mistake,  but  in  his  own  in- 
terest, which  he  sees  and  is  sure  of.  The  first  desire  of  a 
colonial  governor  is  not  to  get  into  a scrape,”  not  to  do 
anything  which  may  give  trouble  to  his  superiors — the 
Colonial  Office — at  home,  which  may  cause  an  untimely 
and  dubious  recall,  which  may  hurt  his  after  career.  He 
is  sure  to  leave  upon  the  colony  the  feeling  that  they  have 
a luler  who  only  half  knows  them,  and  does  not  so  much 
as  half  care  for  them.  We  hardly  appreciate  this  com- 
mon feeling  in  our  colonies,  because  we  appoint  their 
sovereign  ; but  we  should  understand  it  in  an  instant  if, 
by  a political  metamorphosis,  the  choice  were  turned  the 
other  way — if  they  appointed  our  sovereign.  We  should 
then  say  at  once,  How  is  it  possible  a man  from  Hew  Zea- 


304 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


land  can  understand  England?  how  is  it  possible  that  h 
man  longing  to  get  back  to  the  antipodes  can  care  for 
England  ? how  can  we  trust  one  who  lives  by  the  fluctu« 
ating  favour  of  a distant  authority  ? how  can  we  heartily 
obey  one  who  is  but  a foreigner  with  the  accident  of  an 
identical  language  ?” 

I dwell  on  the  evils  which  impair  the  advantage  of 
colonial  governorship  because  that  is  the  most  favoured 
case  of  super-parliamentary  royalty,  and  because  from 
looking  at  it  we  can  bring  freshly  home  to  our  minds 
what  the  real  difficulties  of  that  institution  are.  We  are 
so  familiar  with  it,  that  we  do  not  understand  it.  We  are 
like  people  who  have  known  a man  all  their  lives,  and  yet 
are  quite  surprised  when  he  displays  some  obvious  charac- 
teristic which  casual  observers  have  detected  at  a glance. 
I have  known  a man  who  did  not  know  what  colour  his 
sister’s  eyes  were,  though  he  had  seen  her  every  day  for 
twenty  years ; or  rather,  he  did  not  know  because  he  had 
so  seen  her : so  true  is  the  philosophical  maxim  that  we 
neglect  the  constant  element  in  our  thoughts,  though  it 
is  probably  the  most  important,  and  attended^  almost  only 
to  the  varying  elements — the  differentiating  elements  (as 
men  now  speak) — though  they  are  apt  to  be  less  potent. 
But  when  we  perceive  by  the  roundabout  example  of  a 
colonial  governor  how  difficult  the  task  of  a constitutional 
king  is  in  the  exercise  of  the  function  of  dissolving  par- 
liament, we  at  once  see  how  unlikely  it  is  that  an  here- 
ditary monarch  will  be  possessed  of  the  requisite  faculties. 

An  hereditary  king  is  but  an  ordinary  person,  u])on  an 
average,  at  best ; he  is  nearly  sure  to  be  badly  educated 


CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 


305 


for  business , be  is  very  little  likely  to  have  a taste  for 
business ; he  is  solicited  from  youth  by  every  temptation 
to  pleasure  ; he  probably  passed  the  whole  of  his  youth  in 
the  vicious  situation  of  the  heir-apparent,  who  can  do 
nothing  because  he  has  no  appointed  work,  and  who  will 
be  considered  almost  to  outstep  his  function  if  he  under- 
take optional  work.  For  the  most  part,  a constitutional 
king  is  a damaged  common  man  ; not  forced  to  business 
by  necessity  as  a despot  often  is,  but  yet  spoiled  for  busi- 
ness by  most  of  the  temptations  which  spoil  a despot. 
History,  too,  seems  to  show  that  hereditary  royal  families 
gather  from  the  repeated  influence  of  their  corrupting 
situation  some  dark  taint  in  the  blood,  some  transmitted 
and  growing  poison  which  hm'ts  their  judgments,  darkens 
all  their  sorrow,  and  is  a cloud  on  half  their  pleasure.  It 
has  been  said,  not  truly,  but  with  a possible  approxima- 
tion to  truth,  That  in  1802  every  hereditary  monarch 
was  insane.”  Is  it  likely  that  this  sort  of  monarchs  will 
be  able  to  catch  the  exact  moment  when,  in  opposition  to 
the  wishes  of  a triumphant  ministry,  they  ought  to  dis- 
solve Parliament  ? |To  do  so  with  efficiency  they  must  be 
able  to  perceive  that  the  Parliament  is  wrong,  and  that 
the  nation  knows  it  is  wrong.  Now  to  know  that  Parlia- 
ment is  wrong,  a man  must  be,  if  not  a great  statesman, 
yet  a considerable  statesman — a statesman  of  some  sort. 
He  must  have  great  natural  vigour,  for  no  less  will  com- 
prehend the  hard  principles  of  national  policy.  He  must 
have  incessant  industry,  for  no  less  will  keep  him  abreast 
with  the  involved  detail  to  which  those  principles  relate, 
and  the  miscellaneous  occasions  to  which  they  must  be 


306 


THE  EIS'GLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


applied.  A man  made  common  by  nature,  and  made  worse 
by  life,  is  not  likely  to  have  either  ; he  is  nearly  sure  not 
to  be  both  clever  and  industrious.  And  a monarch  in  the 
recesses  of  a palace,  listening  to  a charmed  flattery,  un- 
biassed by  the  miscellaneous  world,  who  has  always  been 
hedged  in  by  rank,  is  likely  to  be  but  a poor  judge  of 
public  opinion.  He  may  have  an  inborn  tact  for  flnding 
it  out ; but  his  life  will  never  teach  it  him,  and  will 
probably  enfeeble  it  in  him. 

But  there  is  a still  worse  case,  a case  which  the  life 
of  Greorge  Ill.-r-which  is  a sort  of  museum  of  the  defects 
of  a constitutional  king — suggests  at  once.  The  Parlia- 
ment may  be  wiser  than  the  people,  and  yet  the  king  may 
be  of  the  same  mind  with  the  people.  During  the  last 
years  of  the  American  war,  the  Premier,  Lord  North, 
upon  whom  the  first  responsibility  rested,  was  averse  to 
continuing  it,  and  knew  it  could  not  succeed.  Parlia- 
ment was  much  of  the  same  mind ; if  Lord  North  had 
been  able  to  come  down  to  Parliament  with  a peace  in  his 
Hand,  Parliament  would  probably  have  rejoiced,  and  the 
nation  under  the  guidance  of  Parliament,  though  saddened 
by  its  losses,  probably  would  have  been  satisfied.  The 
opinion  of  that  day  was  more  like  the  American  opinion 
of  the  present  day  than  like  our  present  opinion.  It  was 
much  slower  in  its  formation  than  our  opinion  now,  and 
obeyed  much  more  easily  sudden  impulses  from  the  cen- 
tral administration.  If  Lord  North  had  been  able  to 
throw  the  undivided  energy  and  the  undistracted  authority 
of  the  Executive  Grovernment  into  the  excellent  woik  of 


CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 


307 


making  a peace  and  carrying  a peace,  years  of  bloodshed 
might  have  been  spared,  and  an  entail  of  enmity  cut  off 
that  has  not  yet  run  out.  But  there  was  a power  behind 
the  Prime  Minister ; George  III.  was  madly  eager  to  con- 
tinue the  war,  and  the  nation — not  seeing  how  hopeless 
the  strife  was,  not  comprehending  the  lasting  antipathy 
which  their  obstinacy  was  creating — ignorant,  dull,  and 
helpless — was  ready  to  go  on  too.  Even  if  Lord  North 
had  wished  to  make  peace,  and  had  persuaded  Parliament 
accordingly,  all  his  work  would  have  been  useless ; a supe- 
rior power  could  and  would  have  appealed  from  a wise  and 
pacific  Parliament  to  a sullen  and  warlike  nation.  The 
check  which  our  constitution  finds  for  the  special  vices  of 
our  Parliament  was  misused  to  curb  its  wisdom. 

The  more  we  study  the  nature  of  Cabinet  Government, 
the  more  we  shall  shrink  from  exposing  at  a vital  instant 
its  delicate  machinery  to  a blow  from  a casual,  incompe- 
tent, and  perhaps  semi-insane  outsider.  The  preponderant 
probability  is  that  on  a great  occasion  the  Premier  and 
Parliament  will  really  be  wiser  than  the  king.  The  Pre- 
mier is  sure  to  be  able,  and  is  sure  to  be  most  anxious  to 
decide  well ; if  he  fail  to  decide,  he  loses  his  place,  though 
through  all  blunders  the  king  keeps  his ; the  judgment 
of  the  man,  naturally  very  discerning,  is  sharpened  by  a 
heavy  penalty,  from  which  the  judgment  of  the  man,  b} 
nature  much  less  intelligent,  is  exempt.  Parliament,  too, 
18  for  the  most  part  a sound,  careful,  and  practical  body 
of  men.  Principle  shows  that  the  power  of  dismissing  a 
Government  with  which  Parliament  is  satisfied,  and  of 


308 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


dissolving  that  Parliament  upon  an  appeal  to  the  people, 
is  not  a power  which  a common  hereditary  monarcli  will 


! long  run  be  able  beneficially  to  exercise. 


\ Accordingly  this  power  has  almost,  if  not  quite,  dropped 
out  of  the  reality  of  our  constitution.  Nothing,  perhaps, 
would  more  surprise  the  English  people  than  if  the  Queen 
by  a coup  d^etat  and  on  a sudden  destroyed  a ministry 
firm  in  the  allegiance  and  secure  of  a majority  in  Parlia- 
ment That  power  indisputably,  in  theory,  belongs  to 
her ; but  it  has  passed  so  far  away  from  the  minds  of 
men,  that  it  would  terrify  them,  if  she  used  it,  like  a 
volcanic  eruption  from  Primrose  Hill.  The  last  analogy 
to  it  is  not  one  to  be  coveted  as  a precedent.  In  1835 
William  IV.  dismissed  an  administration  which,  though 
disorganised  by  the  loss  of  its  leader  in  the  Commons,  was 
an  existing  Grovernment,  had  a premier  in  the  Lords 
ready  to  go  on,  and  a leader  in  the  Commons  willing  to 
begin.  The  King  fancied  that  public  opinion  was  leaving 
the  Whigs  and  going  over  to  the  Tories,  and  he  thought 
he  should  accelerate  the  transition  by  ejecting  the  former. 
But  the  event  showed  that  he  misjudged.  His  perception 
indeed  was  right ; the  English  people  were  wavering  in 
their  allegiance  to  the  Whigs,  who  had  no  leader  that 
touched  the  popular  heart,  none  in  whom  Liberalism 
coul  1 personify  itself  and  become  a passion — who  besides 
were  a body  long  used  to  opposition,  and  therefore  making 
blunders  in  office — who  were  borne  to  power  by  a popular 
impulse  which  they  only  half  comprehended,  and  perhaps 
less  than  half  shared.  But  the  King’s  policy  was  wrong ; 
he  impeded  the  re-action  instead  of  aiding  it.  He  forced 


CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 


309 


m a premature  Tory  Grovernment,  which  was  as  unsuc- 
cessful as  all  wise  people  perceived  that  it  muft  be.  The 
popular  distaste  to  the  Whigs  was  as  yet  but  incipient, 
inefficient;  and  the  intervention  of  the  Crown  was  advan- 
tageous to  them,  because  it  looked  inconsistent  with  the 
liberties  of  the  people.  And  in  so  far  as  William  IV.  was 
right  in  detecting  an  incipient  change  of  opinion,  he  did 
but  detect  an  erroneous  change.  What  was  desirable  was 
the  prolongation  of  Liberal  rule.  The  commencing  dis- 
satisfaction did  but  relate  to  the  personal  demerits  of  the 
Whig  leaders,  and  other  temporary  adjuncts  of  free  prin- 
ciples, and  not  to  those  principles  intrinsically.  So  that 
the 'last  precedent  for  a royal  onslaught  on  a ministry 
ended  thus  : — in  opposing  the  right  principles,  in  aiding 
the  wrong  principles,  in  hurting  the  party  it  was  meant 
to  help.  After  such  a warning,  it  is  likely  that  our 
monarchs  will  pursue  the  policy  which  a long  course  of 
/j^uiet  precedent  at  present  directs — they  will  leave  a 
Ministry  trusted  by  Parliament  to  the  judgment  of  Par- 
liament. 

Indeed,  the  dangers  arising  from  a party  spirit  in  Par- 
liament exceeding  that  of  the  nation,  and  of  a selfishness 
in  Parliament  contradicting  the  true  interest  of  the  na- 
tion, are  not  great  dangers  in  a country  where  the  mind 
of  the  nation  is  steadily  political,  and  where  its  control 
over  its  representatives  is  constant.  A steady  opposition 
to  a formed  public  opinion  is  hardly  possible  in  our  House 
of  Commons,  so  incessant  is  the  national  attention  to 
politics,  and  so  keen  the  fear  in  the  mind  of  each  mem- 
ber that  he  may  lose  his  valued  seat.  These  dangers  be^ 


310 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


long  to  early  and  scattered  communities,  where  there  are 
no  interesting  political  questions,  where  the  distances  are 
great,  where  no  vigilant  opinion  passes  judgment  on  par- 
liamentary excesses,  where  few  care  to  have  seats  in  the 
chamber,  and  where  many  of  those  few  are  from  their  cha- 
racters and  their  antecedents  better  not  there  than  there. 
The  one  great  vice  of  parliamentary  government  in  an 
adult  political  nation,  is  the  caprice  of  Parliament  in  the 
choice  of  a ministry.  A nation  can  hardly  control  it 
here;  and  it  is  not  good  that,  except  within  wide  limits, 
it  should  control  it.  The  Parliamentary  judgment  of  the 
merits  or  demerits  of  an  administration  very  generally 
depends  on  matters  which  the  Parliament,  being  close 
at  hand,  distinctly  sees,  and  which  the  distant  nation  does 
not  see.  But  where  personality  enters,  capriciousness 
begins.  It  is  easy  to  imagine  a House  of  Commons  which 
is  discontented  with  all  statesmen,  which  is  contented 
with  none,  which  is  made  up  of  little  parties,  which  votes 
in  small  knots,  which  will  adhere  steadily  to  no  leader, 
which  gives  every  leader  a chance  and  a hope.  Such 
Parliaments  require  the  imminent  check  of  possible  dis- 
solution ; but  that  check  is  (as  has  been  shown)  better  in 
the  premier  than  in  the  sovereign ; and  by  the  late  prac- 
tice of  our  constitution,  its  use  is  yearly  ebbing  from  the 
sovereign  and  yearly  centring  in  the  premier.  The  Queen 
can  hardly  now  refuse  a defeated  minister  the  chance  of 
a dissolution,  any  more  than  she  can  dissolve  in  the  time 
of  an  undefeated  one,  and  without  his  consent. 

We  shall  hnd  the  case  much  the  same  with  the  safety- 
valve,  as  I have  called  it,  of  our  constitution.  A good, 


CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 


311 


capable,  hereditary  monarch  would  exercise  it  better  than 
a premier,  but  a premier  could  manage  it  well  enough ; 
and  a monarch  capable  of  doing  better  will  be  born  only 
once  in  a century,  whereas  monarchs  likely  to  do  worse 
will  be  born  every  day. 

There  are  two  modes  in  which  the  power  of  our  execu- 
tive to  create  Peers — to  nominate,  that  is,  additional 
members  of  our  upper  and  revising  chamber — now  acts  : 
one  constant,  habitual,  though  not  adequately  noticed  by 
the  popular  mind  as  it  goes  on ; and  the  other  possible 
and  terrific,  scarcely  ever  really  exercised,  but  always  by 
its  reserved  magic  maintaining  a great  and  a restraining 
influence.  The  Crown  creates  Peers,  a few  year  by  year, 
and  thus  modifies  continually  the  characteristic  feeling  of 
the  House  of  Lords.  I have  heard  people  say,  who  ought 
to  know,  that  the  English  peerage  (the  only  one  upon 
which  unhappily  the  power  of  new  creation  now  acts)  is 
now  more  Whig  than  Tory.  Thirty  years  ago  the  majo- 
rity was  indisputably  the  other  way.  Owing  to  very 
curious  circumstances  English  parties  have  not  alternated 
in  power  as  a good  deal  of  speculation  predicts  they  would, 
and  a good  deal  of  current  language  assumes  they  have. 

The  Whig  party  were  in  office  some  seventy  years  (with 
very  small  breaks),  from  the  death  of  Queen  Anne  to  the 
coalition  between  Lord  North  and  Mr.  Fox ; then  the 
Tories  (with  only  such  breaks)  were  in  power  for  nearly 
fifty  years,  till  1832;  and  since,  the  Whig  party  has 
always,  with  very  trifling  intervals,  been  predominant.  TZti  ^ 
Consequently,  each  continuously-governing  party  has  had 
the  means  of  modifying  the  upper  house  to  suit  its  views  ^ , 


312 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


The  profuse  Tory  creations  of  half  a century  had  made  the 
House  of  Lords  bigotedly  Tory  before  the  first  Eeforin 
Act,  but  it  is  wonderfully  mitigated  now.  The  Irish 
Peers  and  the  Scotch  Peers — being  nominated  by  an 
almost  unaltered  constituency,  and  representing  the  feelings 
of  the  majority  of  that  constituency  only  (no  minority 
having  any  voice) — present  an  unchangeable  Tory  ele- 
ment. But  the  element  in  which  change  is  permitted 
has  been  changed.  Whether  the  English  Peerage  be  or 
be  not  predominantly  now  Tory,  it  is  certainly  not  Tory 
after  the  fashion  of  the  Toryism  of  1832.  The  Whig  ad- 
ditions have  indeed  sprung  from  a class  commonly  rather 
adjoining  upon  Toryism  than  much  inclining  to  Eadical- 
ism.  It  is  not  from  men  of  large  wealth  that  a very  great 
impetus  to  organic  change  should  be  expected.  The  ad- 
ditions to  the  Peers  have  matched  nicely  enough  with  the 
old  Peers,  and  therefore  they  have  effected  more  easily  a 
greater  and  more  permeating  modification.  The  addition 
of  a contrasting  mass  would  have  excited  the  old  leaven, 
but  the  delicate  infusion  of  ingredients  similar  in  genus, 
though  different  in  species,  has  modified  the  new  com- 
pound without  irritating  the  old  original. 

This  ordinary  and  common  use  of  the  peer-creating 
power  is  always  in  the  hands  of  the  premier,  and 
depends  for  its  characteristic  use  on  being  there.  He, 
as  the  head  of  the  predominant  party,  is  the  proper 
person  to  modify  gradually  the  permanent  chamber 
which,  perhaps,  was  at  starting  hostile  to  him ; and,  at 
any  rate,  can  be  best  harmonised  with  the  public  opinion 
be  represents  by  the  additions  he  makes.  Hardly  any 


CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 


313 


contrived  constitution  possesses  a machinery  for  modifying 
its  secondary  house  so  delicate,  so  flexible,  and  so  con- 
stant. If  the  power  of  creating  life  peers  had  been 
added,  the  mitigating  influence  of  the  responsible  execu- 
tive upon  the  House  of  Lords  would  have  been  as  good  as 
such  a thing  can  be. 

The  catastrophic  creation  of  Peers  for  the  purpose  of 
swamping  the  upper  house  is  utterly  different.  If  an  able 
and  impartial  exterior  king  is  at  hand,  this  power  is  best 
in  that  king.  It  is  a power  only  to  be  used  on  great 
occasions,  when  the  object  is  immense,  and  the  party 
strife  unmitigated.  This  is  the  conclusive,  the  swaying 
power  of  the  moment,  and  of  course,  therefore,  it  had 
better  be  in  the  hands  of  a power  both  capable  and 
impartial,  than  of  a premier  who  must  in  some  degree  be 
a partisan.  The  value  of  a discreet,  calm,  wise  monarch, 
if  such  should  happen  to  be  reigning  at  the  acute  crisis  of 
a nation’s  destiny,  is  priceless.  He  may  prevent  years  of 
tumult,  save  bloodshed  and  civil  war,  lay  up  a store  of 
grateful  fame  to  himself,  prevent  the  accumulated  intes- 
tine hatred  of  each  party  to  its  opposite.  But  the  question 
comes  back.  Will  there  be  such  a monarch  just  then  ? 
What  is  the  chance  of  having  him  just  then  ? What  will 
be  the  use  of  the  monarch  whom  the  accidents  of  inheri- 
tance, such  as  we  know  them  to  be,  must  upon  an  average 
bring  us  just  then  ? 

The  answer  to  these  questions  is  not  satisfactory,  if  we 
taKe  it  from  the  little  experience  we  have  had  in  this  rare 
matter.  There  have  been  but  two  cases  at  all  approaching 
to  a catastrophic  creation  of  Peers — to  a creation  which 
21 


314 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


would  suddenly  change  the  majority  of  the  Lords — in  Eng- 
lish history.  One  was  in  Queen  Anne’s  time.  The  majority 
of  peers  in  Queen  Anne's  time  were  Whig,  and  by  profuse 
and  quick  creations  Harley’s  Ministry  changed  it  to  a 
Tory  majority.  So  great  was  the  popular  effect,  that  in 
the  next  reign  one  of  the  most  contested  ministerial  pro- 
posals was  a proposal  to  take  the  power  of  indefinite  peer 
creation  from  the  Crown,  and  to  make  th*e  number  of 
Lords  fixed,  as  that  of  the  Commons  is  fixed.  But  the 
sovereign  had  little  to  do  with  the  matter.  Queen  Anne 
was  one  of  the  smallest  people  ever  set  in  a great  place. 
Swift  bitterly  and  justly  said  ‘‘she  had  not  a store  of 
amity  by  her  for  more  than  one  friend  at  a time,”  and 
just  then  her  affection  was  concentrated  on  a waiting- 
maid.  Her  waiting-maid  told  her  to  make  peers,  and  she 
made  them.  But  of  large  thought  and  comprehensive 
statesmanship  she  was  as  destitute  as  Mrs.  Marsham. 
She  supported  a bad  ministry  by  the  most  extreme  of 
measures,  and  she  did  it  on  caprice.  The  case  of  William 
IV.  is  still  more  instructive.  He  was  a very  conscientious 
king,  but  at  the  same  time  an  exceedingly  weak  king. 
His  correspondence  with  Lord  Grrey  on  this  subject  fills 
more  than  half  a large  volume,  or  rather  his  secretary’s 
correspondence,  for  he  kept  a very  clever  man  to  write 
what  he  thought,  or  at  least  what  those  about  him 
thought.  It  is  a strange  instance  of  high-placed  weak- 
ness and  conscientious  vacillation.  After  endless  letters 
the  king  consents  to  make  a reasonable  number  of  peers 
if  required  to  pass  the  second  reading  of  the  Eeform  Bill, 
but  owing  to  desertion  of  the  “ Waverers  ” from  the  Tories. 


CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 


315 


the  second  reading  is  carried  without  it  oy  nine,  and 
then  the  king  refuses  to  make  peers,  or  at  least  enough 
peers  when  a vital  amendment  is  carried  by  Lord 
Lyndhurst,  which  would  have  destroyed,  and  was  meant 
to  destroy  the  Bill.  In  consequence,  there  was  a tremen- 
dous crisis,  and  nearly  a Eevolution.  A more  striking 
example  of  well-meaning  imbecility  is  scarcely  to  be 
found  in  history.  No  one  who  reads  it  carefully  will 
doubt  that  the  discretionary  power  of  making  peers  would 
have  been  far  better  in  Lord  G-rey’s  hands  than  in  the 
king’s.  It  was  the  uncertainty  whether  the  king  would 
exercise  it,  and  how  far  he  would  exercise  it,  that  mainly 
animated  the  opposition.  In  fact,  you  may  place  power 
in  weak  hands  at  a revolution,  but  you  cannot  keep  it  in 
weak  hands.  It  runs  out  of  them  into  strong  ones.  An 
ordinary  hereditary  sovereign — a William  IV.,  or  a 
Greorge  IV. — is  unfit  to  exercise  the  peer-creating  power 
when  most  wanted.  A half-insane  king,  like  George  III., 
would  be  worse.  He  might  use  it  by  unaccountable  im- 
pulse when  not  required,  and  refuse  to  use  it  out  of 
sullen  madness  when  required. 

The  existence  of  a fancied  check  on  the  premier  is  in 
truth  an  evil,  because  it  prevents  the  enforcement  of  a 
real  check.  It  would  be  easy  to  provide  by  law  that 
an  extraordinary  number  of  Peers — say  more  than  ten 
annually — should  not  be  created  except  on  a vote  of  some 
large  majority,  suppose  three-fourths  of  the  lower  house. 
This  would  ensure  that  the  premier  should  not  use  the 
reserve  force  of  the  constitution  as  if  it  were  an  ordinary 
force ; that  he  should  not  use  it  except  when  the  whole 


316 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


aation  fixedly  wished  it ; that  it  should  be  kept  for  a 
revolution,  not  expended  on  administration  ; and  it  would 
ensure  that  he  should  then  have  it  to  use.  Queen  Anne’s 
case  and  William’s  IV.’s  case  prove  that  neither  object  is 
certainly  attained  by  entrusting  this  critical  and  extreme 
force  to  the  chance  idiosyncracies  and  habitual  mediocrity 
of  an  hereditary  sovereign. 

It  may  be  asked  why  I argue  at  such  length  a question 
in  appearance  so  removed  from  practice,  and  in  one  point 
of  view  .so  irrelevant  to  my  subject.  No  one  proposes  to 
remove  Queen  Victoria ; if  any  one  is  in  a safe  place  on 
earth,  she  is  in  a safe  place.  In  these  very  essays  it  has 
been  shown  that  the  mass  of  our  people  would  obey  no 
one  else,  that  the  reverence  she  excites  is  the  potential 
energy — as  science  now  speaks — out  of  which  all  minor 
forces  are  made,  and  from  which  lesser  functions  take 
their  efficiency.  But  looking  not  to  the  present  hour, 
and  this  single  country,  but  to  the  world  at  large  and 
coming  times,  no  question  can  be  more  practical. 

What  grows  upon  the  world  is  a certain  matter-of- 
factness.  The  test  of  each  century,  more  than  of  the 
century  before,  is  the  test  of  results.  New  countries  are 
arising  all  over  the  world  where  there  are  no  fixed  sources 
of  reverence ; which  have  to  make  them ; which  have  to 
create  institutions  which  must  generate  loyalty  by  con- 
spicuous utility.  This  matter-of-factness  is  the  growth 
even  in  Europe  of  the  two  greatest  and  newest  intellec- 
tual agencies  of  our  time.  One  of  these  is  business.  We 
see  so  much  of  the  material  fruits  of  commerce,  that  we 
forget  its  mental  fruits.  It  begets  a mind  desirous  of 


CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 


317 


things,  careless  of  ideas,  not  acquainted  with  the  niceties 
of  words.  In  all  labour  there  should  be  profit,  is  its 
motto.  It  is  not  only  true  that  we  have  left  swords 
for  ledgers,”  but  war  itself  is  made  as  much  by  the  ledger 
as  by  the  sword.  The  soldier— that  is,  the  great  soldier 
— of  to-day  is  not  a romantic  animal,  dashing  at  forlorn 
hopes,  animated  by  frantic  sentiment,  full  of  fancies  as  to 
a lady-love  or  a sovereign ; but  a quiet,  grave  man, 
busied  in  charts,  exact  in  sums,  master  of  the  art  of 
tactics,  occupied  in  trivial  detail ; thinking,  as  the  Duke 
of  Wellington  was  said  to  do,  most  of  the  shoes  of  his 
soldiers ; despising  all  manner  of  eclat  and  eloquence ; 
perhaps,  like  Count  Moltke,  silent  in  seven  languages.” 
We  have  reached  a ‘^climate”  of  opinion  where  figures 
rule,  where  our  very  supporter  of  Divine  right,  as  we 
deemed  him,  our  Count  Bismarck,  amputates  kings  right 
and  left,  applies  the  test  of  results  to  each,  and  lets  none 
live  who  are  not  to  do  something.  There  has  in  truth 
been  a great  change  during  the  last  five  hundred  years  in 
the  predominant  occupations  of  the  ruling  part  of  man- 
kind ; formerly  they  passed  their  time  either  in  exciting 
action  or  inanimate  repose.  A feudal  baron  had  nothing 
between  war  and  the  chase — keenly  animating  things 
both — and  what  was  called  ^‘inglorious  ease.”  Modern 
life  is  scanty  in  excitements,  but  incessant  in  quiet  action. 
Its  perpetual  commerce  is  creating  a “ stock-taking”  habit 
— the  habit  of  asking  each  man,  thing,  and  institution, 
“ Well,  what  have  you  done  since  I saw  you  last  ?” 

Our  physical  science,  which  is  becoming  the  dominant 
culture  of  thousands,  and  which  is  beginning  to  permeat6 


318 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


our  common  literature  to  an  extent  which  few  watch 
enough,  quite  tends  the  same  way.  The  two  peculiarities 
are  its  homeliness  and  its  inquisitiveness : its  value  for 
the  most  stupid  ” facts,  as  one  used  to  call  them,  and  its 
incessant  wish  for  verification — to  be  sure,  by  tiresome 
seeing  and  hearing,  that  they  are  facts.  The  old  excite- 
ment of  thought  has  half  died  out,  or  rather  it  is  diffused 
in  quiet  pleasure  over  a life,  instead  of  being  concen- 
trated in  intense  and  eager  spasms.  An  old  philosopher — 
a Descartes,  suppose — fancied  that  out  of  primitive  truths, 
which  he  could  by  ardent  excogitation  know,  he  might  by 
pure  deduction  evolve  the  entire  universe.  Intense  self- 
examination,  and  intense  reason  would,  he  thought,  make 
out  everything.  The  soul  “ itself  by  itself,’'  could  tell  all  it 
wanted  if  it  would  be  true  to  its  sublimer  isolation.  The 
greatest  enjoyment  possible  to  man  was  that  which  this 
philosophy  promises  its  votaries — the  pleasure  of  being 
always  right,  and  always  reasoning — without  ever  being 
bound  to  lock  at  anything.  But  our  most  ambitious 
schemes  of  philosophy  now  start  quite  differently.  Mr. 
Darwin  begins ; — 

‘‘  When  on  board  H.M.S.  Beagle^  as  naturalist,  I was 
much  struck  with  certain  facts  in  the  distribution  of  the 
organic  beings  inhabiting  South  America,  and  in  the 
geological  relations  of  the  present  to  the  past  inhabitants 
of  that  continent.  These  facts,  as  will  be  seen  in  the 
latter  chapters  of  this  volume,  seemed  to  throw  some 
light  on  the  origin  of  species — that  mystery  of  mysteries, 
os  it  has  been  called  by  one  of  our  greatest  philosophers. 
On  my  return  home,  it  occurred  to  me,  in  1837,  that 


CHECKS  AND  BALANCES. 


319 


something  might  perhaps  be  made  out  on  this  question 
oy  patiently  accumulating  and  reflecting  on  all  sorts  of 
facts  which  could  possibly  have  any  bearing  on  it.  After 
five  years’  work  I allowed  myself  to  speculate  on  the 
subject,  and  drew  up  some  short  notes  ; these  I enlarged 
in  1844  into  a sketch  of  the  conclusions  which  then 
seemed  to  me  probable  : from  that  period  to  the  present 
day  I have  steadily  pursued  the  same  object.  I hope  that 
I may  be  excused  for  entering  on  these  personal  details, 
as  I give  them  to  show  that  I have  not  been  hasty  in 
coming  to  a decision.” 

If  he  hopes  finally  to  solve  his  great  problem,  it  is  by 
careful  experiments  in  pigeon  fancying,  and  other  sorts  of 
artificial  variety  making.  His  hero  is  not  a self-inclosed, 
excited  philosopher,  but  “ that  most  skilful  breeder.  Sir 
John  Sebright,  who  used  to  say,  with  respect  to  pigeons, 
that  he  would  produce  any  given  feathers  in  three  years, 
but  it  would  take  him  six  years  to  obtain  a head  and  a 
beak.”  I am  not  saying  that  the  new  thought  is  better 
than  the  old ; it  is  no  business  of  mine  to  say  anything 
about  that ; I only  wish  to  bring  home  to  the  mind,  as 
nothing  but  instances  can  bring  it  home,  how  matter-of- 
fact,  how  petty,  as  it  would  at  first  sight  look,  even  our 
most  ambitious  science  has  become. 

In  the  new  communities  which  our  emigrating  habit 
now  constantly  creates,  this  prosaic  turn  of  mind  is  inten- 
sified. In  the  American  mind  and  in  the  colonial  mind 
there  is,  as  contrasted  with  the  old  English  mind,  a literal- 
ness^  a tendency  to  say,  The  facts  are  so-and-so,  whatever 
may  be  thought  or  fancied  about  them.”  We  used  before 


320 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


the  civil  war  to  say  that  the  Americans  worshipped  the 
almighty  dollar;  we  now  know  that  they  can  scattei 
money  almost  recklessly  when  they  will.  But  what  we 
meant  was  half  right — they  worship  visible  value  : obvi- 
ous, undeniable,  intrusive  result.  And  in  Australia  and 
New  Zealand  the  same  turn  comes  uppermost.  It  grows 
from  the  struggle  with  the  wilderness.  Physical  difficulty 
is  the  enemy  of  early  communities,  and  an  incessant  con- 
flict with  it  for  generations  leaves  a mark  of  reality 
on  the  mind — a painful  mark  almost  to  us,  used  to  im- 
palpable fears  and  the  half-fanciful  dangers  of  an  old  and 
complicated  society.  The  ^^new  Englands”  of  all  lati- 
tudes are  bare-minded  (if  I may  so  say)  as  compared  with 
the  « old.” 

When,  therefore,  the  new  communities  of  the  colonised 
world  have  to  choose  a government,  they  must  choose  one 
in  which  all  the  institutions  are  of  an  obvious  evident 
utility.  We  catch  the  Americans  smiling  at  our  Queen 
with  her  secret  mystery,  and  our  Prince  of  Wales  with  his 
happy  inaction.  It  is  impossible,  in  fact,  to  convince 
their  prosaic  minds  that  constitutional  royalty  is  a ra- 
tional government,  that  it  is  suited  to  a new  age  and  an 
unbroken  country,  that  those  who  start  afresh  can  start 
with  it.  The  princelings  who  run  about  the  world  with 
excellent  intentions,  but  an  entire  ignorance  of  business, 
are  to  them  a locomotive  advertisement  that  this  sort  of 
government  is  European  in  its  limitations  and  mediaeval 
in  its  origin ; that  though  it  has  yet  a great  part  to  play 
in  the  old  states,  it  has  no  place  or  part  in  new  states. 
The  realiame  impitoyable  which  good  critics  find  in  a 


CHECKS  AM)  BALANCES. 


321 


most  characteristic  part  of  the  literature  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  is  to  be  found  also  in  its  politics.  An  ostenta- 
t"  ^us  utility  must  characterise  its  creations. 

The  deepest  interest,  therefore,  attaches  to  the  problem 
of  this  essay.  If  hereditary  royalty  had  been  essential  to 
parliamentary  government,  we  might  well  have  despaired 
of  that  government.  But  accurate  investigation  shows 
that  this  royalty  is  not  essential ; that,  upon  an  average, 
it  is  not  even  in  a high  degree  useful ; that  though  a 
king  with  high  courage  and  fine  discretion, — a king  with 
a genius  for  the  place, — is  always  useful,  and  at  rare  mo- 
ments priceless,  yet  that  a common  king,  a king  such  as 
birth  brings,  is  of  no  use  at  difficult  crises,  while  in  the 
common  course  of  things  his  aid  is  neither  likely  nor  re- 
quired— he  will  do  nothing,  and  he  need  do  nothing. 
But  we  happily  find  that  a new  country  need  not  fall 
back  into  the  fatal  division  of  powers  incidental  to  a pre- 
sidential government ; it  may,  if  other  conditions  serve, 
obtain  the  ready,  well-placed,  identical  sort  of  sovereignty 
which  belongs  to  the  English  Constitution,  under  the  un- 
royal form  of  Parliamentary  Grovernraent. 


I'HE  PRE-REQUISITES  OF  CABINET  GOVERNMENT,  AND  THE 

PECULIAR  FORM  WHICH  THEY  HAVE  ASSUMED  IN  ENGLAND. 

[^BiNET  GOVERNMENT  is  rare  because  its  pre-requisites  are 
many.  It  requires  the  co-existence  of  several  national 
characteristics  which  are  not  often  found  together  in  the 
world,  and  which  should  be  perceived  more  distinctly  than 
they  often  ar^  It  is  fancied  that  the  possession  of  a cer- 
tain intelligence,  and  a few  simple  virtues,  are  the  sole 
requisites.  These  mental  and  moral  qualities  are  neces- 
sary, but  much  else  is  necessary  also.  A cabinet  govern- 
ment is  the  government  of  a committee  elected  by  the 
legislature,  and  there  are  therefore  a double  set  of  condi- 
tions to  it : first,  those  which  are  essential  to  all  elective 
governments  as  such ; and  second,  those  which  are 
requisite  to  this  particular  elective  government.  There 
are  pre-requisites  for  the  genus,  and  additional  ones  for 
the  species. 

The  first  pre-requisite  of  elective  government  is  the 
mutual  confidence  of  the  electors.  We  are  so  accustomed 
to  submit  to  be  ruled  by  elected  ministers,  that  we  are 
apt  to  fancy  all  mankind  would  readily  be  so  too.  Know- 
.edge  and  civilisation  have  at  least  made  this  progress, 


CABINET  GOVERNMENT. 


323 


that  we  instinctively,  without  argument,  almost  without 
consciousness,  allow  a certain  number  of  specified  persona 
to  choose  our  rulers  for  us.  It  seems  to  us  the  simplest 
thing  in  the  world.  But  it  is  one  of  the  gravest  things. 

The  peculiar  marks  of  semi-barbarous  people  are 
diffused  distrust  and  indiscriminate  suspicion.  People, 
in  all  but  the  most  favoured  times  and  places,  are  rooted 
to  the  places  where  they  were  born,  think  the  thoughts  of 
those  places,  can  endure  no  other  thoughts.  The  next 
parish  even  is  suspected.  Its  inhabitants  have  different 
usages,  almost  imperceptibly  different,  but  yet  different ; 
they  speak  a varying  accent ; they  use  a few  peculiar 
words  ; tradition  says  that  their  faith  is  dubious.  And  if 
the  next  parish  is  a little  suspected,  the  next  county  is 
much  more  suspected.  Here  is  a definite  beginning  of 
new  maxims,  new  thoughts,  new  ways : the  immemorial 
boundary  mark  begins  in  feeling  a strange  world.  And  if 
the  next  county  is  dubious,  a remote  county  is  untrust- 
worthy. “ Vagrants  come  from  thence  ” men  know,  and 
they  know  nothing  else.  The  inhabitants  of  the  north 
speak  a dialect  different  from  the  dialect  of  the  south : 
they  have  other  laws,  another  aristocracy,  another  life.  In 
ages  when  distant  territories  are  blanks  in  the  mind,  when 
neighbourhood  is  a sentiment,  when  locality  is  a passion, 
concerted  co-operation  between  remote  regions  is  impos- 
sible even  on  trivial  matters.  Neither  would  rely  enough 
upon  the  good  faith,  good  sense,  and  good  judgment 
of  the  other.  Neither  could  enough  calculate  on  the 
other. 

And  if  such  co-operation  is  not  to  be  expected  in 


324 


IHE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


trivial  matters,  it  is  not  be  thought  of  in  the  most  vital 
matter  of  government — the  choice  of  the  executive  ruler. 
To  fancy  that  Northumberland  in  the  thirteenth  century 
would  have  consented  to  ally  itself  with  Somersetshire 
for  the  choice  of  a chief  magistrate  is  absurd ; it  would 
scarcely  have  allied  itself  to  choose  a hangman.  Even 
now,  if  it  were  palpably  explained,  neither  district  would 
like  it.  But  no  one  says  at  a county  election,  ‘^The 
object  of  this  present  meeting  is  to  choose  our  delegate 
to  what  the  Americans  call  the  ^Electoral  College,’  to 
the  assembly  which  names  our  first  magistrate — our  sub- 
stitute for  their  president.  Eepresentatives  from  this 
county  will  meet  representatives  from  other  counties, 
from  cities  and  boroughs,  and  proceed  to  choose  our 
rulers.”  Such  bald  exposition  would  have  been  impos- 
sible in  old  times ; it  would  be  considered  queer,  eccen 
trie,  if  it  were  used  now.  Happily,  the  process  of  election 
is  90  indirect  and  hidden,  and  the  introduction  of  that 
process  was  so  gradual  and  latent,  that  we  scarcely  per- 
ceive the  immense  political  trust  we  repose  in  each  other. 
The  best  mercantile  credit  seems  to  those  who  give  it, 
natural,  simple,  obvious ; they  do  not  argue  about  it, 
or^Jbhink  about  it.  The  best  political  credit  is  analogous ; 
! we  trust  our  countrymen  without  remembering  that  we 
trust  them.  J 

A second  and  very  rare  condition  of  an  elective 
government  is  a calm  national  mind — a tone  of  mind 
suflBciently  stable  to  bear  the  necessary  excitement  of  con- 
spicuous revolutions^  No  barbarous,  no  semi-civilised 
nation  has  ever  possessed  this.  The  mass  of  uneducated 


CABINET  GOVERNMENT. 


S26 


men  could  not  now  in  England  be  told  ^ go  to,  choose 
your  rulers;’  they  would  go  wild;  their  imagination? 
would  fancy  unreal  dangers,  and  the  attempt  at  election 
would  issue  in  some  forcible  usurpation.  The  incal- 
culable advantage  of  august  institutions  in  a free  state 
is,  that  they  prevent  this  collapse.  The  excitement  of 
choosing  our  rulers  is  prevented  by  the  apparent  ex- 
istence of  an  unchosen  ruler.  The  poorer  and  more 
ignorant  classes — those  who  would  most  feel  excitement, 
who  would  most  be  misled  by  excitement — really  believe 
that  the  Queen  governs.  You  could  not  explain  to 
them  the  recondite  difference  between  “ reigning”  and 
“governing;”  the  words  necessary  to  express  it  do  not 
exist  in  their  dialect ; the  ideas  necessary  to  comprehend 
it  do  not  exist  in  their  minds.  The  separation  of  principal 
power  from  principal  station  is  a refinement  which  they 
could  not  even  conceive.  They  fancy  they  are  governed  by 
an  hereditary  queen,  a queen  by  the  grace  of  Grod,  when 
they  are  really  governed  by  a cabinet  and  a parliament — 
men  like  themselves,  chosen  by  themselves.  The  con- 
spicuous dignity  awakens  the  sentiment  of  reverence,  and 
men,  often  very  undignified,  seize  the  occasion  to  govern 
by  means  of  it. 

Lastly.  The  third  condition  of  all  elective  govern- 
ment is  what  I may  call  rationality^  by  which  I mean  a 
power  involving  intelligence,  but  yet  distinct  from  it. 
A whole  people  electing  its  rulers  must  be  able  to  form 
a distinct  conception  of  distant  objects.  Mostly,  the 
“divinity”  that  surrounds  a king  altogether  prevents 
anything  like  a steady  conception  of  him.  You  fancy 


326 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


that  the  object  of  your  loyalty  is  as  much  elevated  above 
you  by  intrinsic  nature  as  he  is  by  extrinsic  position  ; 
you  deify  him  in  sentiment,  as  once  men  deified  him  in 
doctrine.  This  illusion  has  been  and  still  is  of  incalcu- 
lable benefit  to  the  human  race.  It  prevents,  indeed, 
men  from  choosing  their  rulers  ; you  cannot  invest  with 
that  loyal  illusion  a man  who  was  yesterday  what  you  are, 
who  to-morrow  may  be  so  again,  whom  you  chose  to  be 
what  he  is.  But  though  this  superstition  prevents  the 
election  of  rulers,  it  renders  possible  the  existence  of 
unelected  rulers.  Untaught  people  fancy  that  their  king, 
crowned  with  the  holy  crown,  anointed  with  the  oil  of 
Rheims,  descended  of  the  House  of  Plantagenet,  is  a 
different  sort  of  being  from  any  one  not  descended  of  the 
Royal  House — not  crowned — not  anointed.  They  believe 
that  there  is  one  man  whom  by  mystic  right  they  should 
obey ; and  therefore  they  do  obey  him.  It  is  only  in 
later  times,  when  the  world  is  wider,  its  experience  larger, 
and  its  thought  colder,  that  the  plain  rule  of  a palpably 
chosen  ruler  is  even  possible. 

These  conditions  narrowly  restrict  elective  government. 
But  the  pre-requisites  of  a cabinet  government  are  rarer 
still ; it  demands  not  only  the  conditions  I have  men 
tioned,  but  the  possibility  likewise  of  a good  legislature- 
a legislature  competent  to  elect  a sufficient  administration. 

Now  a competent  legislature  is  very  rare.  Any  perma- 
nent legislature  at  all,  any  constantly  acting  mechanism 
for  enacting  and  repealing  laws,  is,  though  it  seems  to  us 
80  natural,  quite  contrary  to  the  inveterate  conceptions  of 
mankind.  The  great  majority  of  nations  conceive  of  their 


CABINET  GOVEKNMENT. 


327 


law,  either  as  something  Divinely  given,  and  therefore 
unalterable,  or  as  a fundamental  habit,  inherited  from 
the  past  to  be  transmitted  to  the  future.  The  English 
Parliament,  of  which  the  prominent  functions  are  now 
legislative,  was  not  all  so  once.  It  was  rather  a presenr- 
votive  body.  The  custom  of  the  realm — the  aboriginal 
transmitted  law — the  law  which  was  in  the  breast  of  the 
judges,  could  not  be  altered  without  the  consent  of  par- 
liament, and  therefore  everybody  felt  sure  it  would  not 
be  altered  except  in  grave,  peculiar,  and  anomalous  cases. 
The  valued  use  of  parliament  was  not  half  so  much  to 
alter  the  law,  as  to  prevent  the  laws  being  altered.  And 
such  too  was  its  real  use.  In  early  societies  it  matters 
much  more  that  the  law  should  be  fixed  than  that  it 
should  be  good.  Any  law  which  the  people  of  ignorant 
times  enact  is  sure  to  involve  many  misconceptions,  and 
to  cause  many  evils.  Perfection  in  legislation  is  not  to 
be  looked  for,  and  is  not,  indeed,  much  wanted  in  a rude, 
painful,  confined  life.  But  such  an  age  covets  fixity 
That  men  should  enjoy  the  fruits  of  their  labour,  that 
the  law  of  property  should  be  known,  that  the  law  of 
marriage  should  be  known,  that  the  whole  course  of  life 
should  be  kept  in  a calculable  track,  is  the  summum 
honum  of  early  ages,  the  first  desire  of  semi-civilised 
mankind.  In  that  age  men  do  not  want  to  have  their 
laws  adapted,  but  to  have  their  laws  steady.  T1  e pas- 
sions are  so  powerful,  force  so  eager,  the  social  bond  so 
weak,  that  the  august  spectacle  of  an  all  but  unalterable 
law  is  necessary  to  preserve  society.  In  the  early  stages  of 
human  society  all  change  is  thought  an  evil.  And  mosi 


328 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


change  is  an  evil.  The  conditions  of  life  are  so  simple 
and  so  unvarying  that  any  decent  sort  of  rules  suffice,  so 
long  as  men  know  what  they  are.  Custom  is  the  first 
check  on  tyranny;  that  fixed  routine  of  social  life  at 
which  modern  innovations  chafe,  and  by  which  modern 
improvement  is  impeded,  is  the  primitive  check  on  base 
power.  The  perception  of  political  expediency  has  then 
hardly  begun ; the  sense  of  abstract  justice  is  weak  and 
vague ; and  a rigid  adherence  to  the  fixed  mould  of  trans- 
mitted usage  is  essential  to  an  unmarred,  unspoiled, 
unbroken  life. 

In  such  an  age  a legislature  continuously  sitting, 
always  making  laws,  always  repealing  laws,  would  have 
been  both  an  anomaly  and  a nuisance.  But  in  the 
present  state  of  the  civilised  part  of  the  world  such 
difficulties  are  obsolete.  There  is  a diffused  desire  in 
civilised  communities  for  an  adjusting  legislation ; for 
a legislation  which  should  adapt  the  inherited  laws  to 
the  new  wants  of  a world  which  now  changes  every 
day.  It  has  ceased  to  be  necessary  to  maintain  bad 
laws,  because  it  is  necessary  to  have  some  laws.  Civi- 
lisation is  robust  enough  to  bear  the  incision  of  legal 
improvements.  But  taking  history  at  large,  the  rarity 
of  cabinets  is  mostly  due  to  the  greater  rarity  of  con- 
tinuous legislatures.  4^ 

Other  conditions,  however,'  limit  even  at  the  present 
day  the  area  of  a cabinet  government,  fit  must  be 
possible  to  have  not  only  a legislature,  but  to  have  a 
competent  legislature — a legislature  willing  to  elect  and 
willing  to  maintain  an  efficient  executive,  j And  this  is 


CABINET  GOVEKNMENT. 


329 


no  easy  matter.  It  is  indeed  true  that  we  need  not 
trouble  ourselves  to  look  for  that  elaborate  and  compli- 
cated organisation  which  partially  exists  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  and  which  is  more  fully  and  freely  expanded 
in  plans  for  improving  the  House  of  Commons.  We  are 
not  now  concerned  with  perfection  or  excellence ; we  seek 
only  for  simple  fitness  and  bare  competency. 

The  conditions  of  fitness  are  two.  First,  you  must  get 
a good  legislature;  and  next,  you  must  keep  it  good. 
And  these  are  by  no  means  so  nearly  connected  as  might 
be  thought  at  first  sight.  ^To  keep  a legislature  efficient, 
it  must  have  a sufficient  supply  of  substantial  business.J 
If  you  employ  the  best  set  of  men  to  do  nearly  nothing, 
they  will  quarrel  with  each  other  about  that  nothing. 
Where  great  questions  end,  little  parties  begin.  And  a 
very  happy  community,  with  few  new  laws  to  make,  few 
old  bad  laws  to  repeal,  and  but  simple  foreign  relations 
to  adjust,  has  great  difficulty  in  employing  a legislature. 
There  is  nothing  for  it  to  enact,  and  nothing  for  it  to 
settle.  Accordingly,  there  is  great  danger  that  the  legis- 
lature, being  debarred  from  all  other  kind  of  business, 
may  take  to  quarrelling  about  its  elective  business ; that 
controversies  as  to  ministries  may  occupy  all  its  time,  and 
yet  that  time  be  perniciously  employed ; that  a constant 
succession  of  feeble  administrations,  unable  to  govern  and 
unfit  to  govern,  may  be  substituted  for  the  proper  result 
of  cabinet  government, — a sufficient  body  of  men  long 
enough  in  power  to  evince  their  sufficiency.  The  exact 
amount  of  non-elective  business  necessary  for  a parliament 
which  is  to  elect  the  executive  cannot,  of  coarse,  be  for- 
22 


330 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


mally  stated.  There  are  no  numbers  and  no  statistics  in 
the  theory  of  constitutions.  All  we  can  say  is,  that  a 
parliament  with  little  business,  which  is  to  be  as  efficient 
as  a parliament  with  much  business,  must  be  in  all  other 
respects  much  better.  An  indifferent  parliament  may  be 
much  improved  by  the  steadying  effect  of  grave  affairs ; 
but  a parliament  which  has  no  such  affairs  must  be  in- 
trinsically excellent,  or  it  will  fail  utterly. 

But  the  difficulty  of  keeping  a good  legislature,  is 
evidently  secondary  to  the  difficulty  of  first  getting  it. 

(|  There  are  two  kinds  of  nations  which  can  elect  a good 
parliament.  The  first  is  a nation  in  which  the  mass  of 
the  people  are  intelligent,  and  in  which  they  are  comfort- 
able. Where  there  is  no  honest  poverty,  where  education 
is  diffused,  and  political  intelligence  is  common,  it  is  easy 
for  the  mass  of  the  people  to  elect  a fair  legislature.  The 
ideal  is  roughly  realised  in  the  North  American  colonies 
of  England,  and  in  the  whole  free  States  of  the  Unio^ 
In  these  countries  there  is  no  such  thing  as  honest 
poverty ; physical  comfort,  such  as  the  poor  cannot 
imagine  here,  is  there  easily  attainable  by  healthy  in- 
dustry. Education  is  diffused  much,  and  is  fast  spreading. 
Ignorant  emigrants  from  the  Old  World  often  prize  the 
intellectual  advantages  of  which  they  are  themselves 
destitute,  and  are  annoyed  at  their  inferiority  in  a place 
where  rudimentary  culture  is  so  common.  The  greatest 
difficulty  of  such  new  communities  is  commonly  geo- 
graphical. The  population  is  mostly  scattered  ; and 
where  population  is  sparse,  discussion  is  difficult.  But  in 
a country  very  large,  as  we  reckon  in  Europe,  a people 


CABINET  GOVERNMENT. 


331 


really  intelligent,  really  educated,  really  comfortable, 
would  soon  form  a good  opinion.  No  one  can  doubt  that 
the  New  England  States,  if  they  were  a separate  com- 
munity, would  have  an  education,  a political  capacity, 
and  an  intelligence  such  as  the  numerical  majority  of  no 
people,  equally  numerous,  has  ever  possessed.  In  a state 
of  this  sort,  where  all  the  community  is  fit  to  choose  a 
sufficient  legislature,  it  is  possible,  it  is  almost  easy,  to 
create  that  legislature.  If  the  New  England  States  pos- 
sessed a cabinet  government  as  a separate  nation,  they 
would  be  as  renowned  in  the  world  for  political  sagacity 
as  they  now  are  for  diffused  happiness. 

The  structure  of  these  communities  is  indeed  based  on 
the  principle  of  equality,  and  it  is  impossible  that  any 
such  community  can  wholly  satisfy  the  severe  require- 
ments of  a political  theorist.  In  every  old  community  its 
primitive  and  guiding  assumption  is  at  war  with  truth. 
By  its  theory  all  people  are  entitled  to  the  same  political 
power,  and  they  can  only  be  so  entitled  on  the  ground 
that  in  politics  they  are  equally  wise.  But  at  the  outset 
of  an  agricultural  colony  this  postulate  is  as  near  the 
truth  as  politics  want.  There  are  in  such  communities 
no  large  properties,  no  great  capitals,  no  refined  classes — 
every  one  is  comfortable  and  homely,  and  no  one  is  at  all 
more.  Equality  is  not  artificially  established  in  a new 
colony ; it  establishes  itself.  There  is  a story  that  among 
the  first  settlers  in  Western  Australia,  some,  who  were 
rich,  took  out  labourers  at  their  own  expense,  and  also 
carriages  to  ride  in.  But  soon  they  had  to  try  if  they 
could  live  in  the  carriages.  Before  the  masters’  houses 


332 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


were  built,  the  labourers  bad  gone  off — they  were  build* 
ing  bouses  and  cultivating  land  for  themselves,  and  the 
masters  were  left  to  sit  in  their  carriages.  Whether  this 
exact  thing  happened  I do  not  know,  but  this  sort  of 
thing  has  happened  a thousand  times.  There  have  been 
a whole  series  of  attempts  to  transplant  to  the  colonies  a 
graduated  English  society.  But  they  have  always  failed 
at  the  first  step.  The  rude  classes  at  the  bottom  felt  that 
they  were  equal  to  or  better  than  the  delicate  classes  at 
the  top  ; they  shifted  for  themselves,  and  left  the  gentle- 
folks” to  shift  for  themselves ; the  base  of  the  elaborate 
pyramid  spread  abroad,  and  the  apex  tumbled  in  and 
perished.  In  the  early  ages  of  an  agricultural  colony, 
whether  you  have  political  democracy  or  not,  social  de- 
mocracy you  must  have,  for  nature  makes  it,  and  not  you. 
But  in  time,  wealth  grows  and  inequality  begins.  A and 
his  children  are  industrious,  and  prosper ; B and  his  chil- 
dren are  idle,  and  fail.  If  manufactures  on  a considerable 
scale  are  established — and  most  young  communities  strive 
even  by  protection  to  establish  them — the  tendency  to 
inequality  is  intensified.  The  capitalist  becomes  a unit 
with  much,  and  his  labourers  a crowd  with  little.  After 
generations  of  education,  too,  there  arise  varieties  of  cul 
ture — there  will  be  an  upper  thousand,  or  ten  thousand, 
of  highly  cultivated  people  in  the  midst  of  a great  nation 
of  moderately  educated  people.  In  theory  it  is  desirable 
that  this  highest  class  of  wealth  and  leisure  should  have 
an  influence  far  out  of  proportion  to  its  mere  number : a 
perfect  constitution  would  find  for  it  a delicate  expedient 
to  make  its  fine  thought  tell  upon  the  surrounding  crudei 


CABINET  GOVEENMENT. 


333 


thought.  But  as  the  world  goes,  when  the  whole  of  the 
population  is  as  instructed  and  as  intelligent  as  in  the 
case  I am  supposing,  we  need  not  care  much  about  this. 
Grreat  communities  have  scarcely  ever — never  save  for 
transient  moments — been  ruled  by  their  highest  thought. 
And  if  we  can  get  them  ruled  by  a decent  capable 
thought,  we  may  be  well  enough  contented  with  our  work. 
We  have  done  more  than  could  be  expected,  though  not 
all  which  could  be  desired.  At  any  rate,  an  isocratic 
polity — a polity  where  every  one  votes,  and  where  every 
one  votes  alike — is,  in  a community  of  sound  education 
and  diffused  intelligence,  a conceivable  case  of  cabinet 
government.  It  satisfies  the  essential  condition ; there  is 
a people  able  to  elect  a parliament  able  to  choose. 

But  suppose  the  mass  of  the  people  are  not  able  to 
elect — and  this  is  the  case  with  the  numerical  majority 
of  all  but  the  rarest  nations — how  is  a cabinet  govern- 
ment to  be  then  possible  ? ^^^tTis  only  possible  in  what  I 
may  venture  to  call  deferential  nations.  It  has  been 
thought  strange,  but  there  are  nations  in  which  the 
numerous  unwiser  part  wishes  to  be  ruled  by  the  less 
numerous  wiser  part.  The  numerical  majority — whether 
by  custom  or  by  choice,  is  immaterial — is  ready,  is  eager 
to  delegate  its  power  of  choosing  its  ruler  to  a certain 
select  minority^  It  abdicates  in  favour  of  its  ilite^  and 
consents  to  obey  whoever  that  Uite  may  confide  in.  It 
acknowledges  as  its  secondary  electors — as  the  choosers  of 
its  government — an  educated  minority,  at  once  competent 
and  unresisted ; it  has  a kind  of  loyalty  to  some  superior 
persons  who  are  fit  to  choose  a good  government,  and 


334 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


whom  no  other  class  opposes.  A nation  in  such  a happy 
state  as  this  has  obvious  advantages  for  constructing  a 
cabinet  government.  It  has  the  best  people  to  elect  a 
legislature,  and  therefore  it  may  fairly  be  expected  to 
choose  a good  legislature — a legislature  competent  to 
select  a good  administration. 

^England  is  the  type  of  deferential  countries,  and  the 
manner  in  which  it  is  so,  and  has  become  so,  is  ex* 
tremely  curioi^  The  middle  classes — the  ordinary  ma- 
jority of  educated  men — are  in  the  present  day  the 
despotic  power  in  England.  “ Public  opinion,”  now-a- 
days,  “ is  the  opinion  of  the  bald-headed  man  at  the  back 
of  the  omnibus.”  It  is  not  the  opinion  of  the  aristocra- 
tical  classes  as  such  ; or  of  the  most  educated  or  refined 
classes  as  such ; it  is  simply  the  opinion  of  the  ordinary 
mass  of  educated,  but  still  commonplace  mankind.  If 
you  look  at  the  mass  of  the  constituencies,  you  will  see 
that  they  are  not  very  interesting  people  ; and  perhaps  if 
you  look  behind  the  scenes  and  see  the  people  who  mani- 
pulate and  work  the  constituencies,  you  will  find  that 
these  are  yet  more  uninteresting.  The  English  consti- 
tution in  its  palpable  form  is  this — the  mass  of  the 
people  yield  obedience  to  a select  few ; and  when  you  see 
this  select  few,  you  perceive  that  though  not  of  the 
lowest  class,  nor  of  an  unrespectable  class,  they  are  yet  of 
a heavy  sensible  class— the  last  people  in  the  world  to 
whom,  if  they  were  drawn  up  in  a row,  an  immensi 
nation  would  ever  give  an  exclusive  preference. 

In  fact,  the  mass  of  the  English  people  yield  a deference 
rather  to  something  else  than  to  their  rulers.  They  defei 


CABINET  GOVERNMENT. 


335 


to  what  we  may  call  the  theatrical  show  of  society.  A 
certain  state  passes  before  them ; a certain  pomp  of  great 
men  ; a certain  spectacle  of  beautiful  women  ; a wonderful 
scene  of  wealth  and  enjoyment  is  displayed,  and  they  are 
coerced  by  it.  Their  imagination  is  bowed  down ; they 
feel  they  are  not  equal  to  the  life  which  is  revealed  to 
them.  Courts  and  aristocracies  have  the  great  quality 
which  rules  the  multitude,  though  philosophers  can  see 
nothing  in  it — visibility.  Courtiers  can  do  what  others 
cannot.  A common  man  may  as  well  try  to  rival  the 
actors  on  the  stage  in  their  acting,  as  the  aristocracy 
in  their  acting.  The  higher  world,  as  it  looks  from  with- 
out, is  a stage  on  which  the  actors  walk  their  parts  much 
better  than  tlie  spectators  can.  This  play  is  played  in 
every  district.  Every  rustic  feels  that  his  house  is  not 
like  my  lord’s  house ; his  life  like  my  lord’s  life ; his  wife 
like  my  lady.  The  climax  of  the  play  is  the  Queen : 
nobody  supposes  that  their  house  is  like  the  court ; their 
life  like  her  life ; her  orders  like  their  orders.  There  is 
in  England  a certain  charmed  spectacle  which  imposes  on 
the  many,  and  guides  their  fancies  as  it  will.  As  a rustic 
on  coming  to  London  finds  himself  in  presence  of  a great 
show  and  vast  exhibition  of  inconceivable  mechanical 
things,  so  by  the  structure  of  our  society  he  finds  himself 
face  to  face  with  a great  exhibition  of  political  things 
which  he  could  not  have  imagined,  which  he  could  not 
make — to  which  he  feels  in  himself  scarcely  anything 
analogous. 

Philosophers  may  deride  this  superstition,  but  its  results 
are  inestimable.  By  the  spectacle  of  this  august  society, 


336 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


countless  ignorant  men  and  women  are  induced  to  obej 
the  few  nominal  electors — the  lOL  borough  renters,  and 
the  50Z.  county  renters — who  have  nothing  imposing 
about  them,  nothing  which  would  attract  the  eye  or  fasci- 
nate the  fancy.  What  impresses  men  is  not  mind,  but 
the  result  of  mind.  And  the  greatest  of  these  results  is 
this  wonderful  spectacle  of  society,  which  is  ever  new,  and 
yet  ever  the  same ; in  which  accidents  pass  and  essence 
remains ; in  which  one  generation  dies  and  another  suc- 
ceeds, as  if  they  were  birds  in  a cage,  or  animals  in  a me- 
nagerie ; of  which  it  seems  almost  more  than  a metaphor 
to  treat  the  parts  as  limbs  of  a perpetual  living  thing,  so 
silently  do  they  seem  to  change,  so  wonderfully  and  so 
perfectly  does  the  conspicuous  life  of  the  new  year  take 
the  place  of  the  conspicuous  life  of  last  year.  The  appa- 
rent rulers  of  the  English  nation  are  like  the  most  impos- 
ing personages  of  a splendid  procession : it  is  by  them  the 
mob  are  influenced  ; it  is  they  whom  the  spectators  cheer. 
The  real  rulers  are  secreted  in  second-rate  carriages ; no 
one  cares  for  them  or  asks  about  them,  but  they  are 
obeyed  implicitly  and  unconsciously  by  reason  of  the 
splendour  of  those  who  eclipsed  and  preceded  them. 

It  is  quite  true  that  this  imaginative  sentiment  is  sup- 
ported by  a sensation  of  political  satisfaction.  It  cannot 
be  said  that  the  mass  of  the  English  people  are  well  off. 
There  are  whole  classes  who  have  not  a conception  of 
what  the  higher  orders  call  comfort ; who  have  not  the 
pre-requisites  of  moral  existence ; who  cannot  lead  the 
life  that  becomes  a man.  But  the  most  miserable  of  these 
classen  do  not  impute  their  misery  to  politics.  If  a poUticaJ 


CABINET  GOVERNMENT. 


337 


agitator  were  to  lecture  to  the  peasants  of  Dorsetshire,  and 
try  to  excite  political  dissatisfaction,  it  is  much  more 
likely  that  he  would  be  pelted  than  that  he  would  succeed 
Of  parliament  these  miserable  creatures  knew  scarcely 
anything;  of  the  cabinet  they  never  heard.  But  they 
would  say  that,  for  all  they  have  heard,  the  Queen  is 
very  good and  rebelling  against  the  structure  of  society 
is  to  their  minds  rebelling  against  the  Queen,  who  rules 
that  society,  in  whom  all  its  most  impressive  part — the 
part  that  they  know — culminates.  The  mass  of  the 
English  people  are  politically  contented  as  well  as  poli- 
ticallj  deferential. 

deferential  community,  even  though  its  lowest  classes 
are  not  intelligent,  is  far  more  suited  to  a cabinet  govern- 
ment than  any  kind  of  democratic  country,  because  it  is 
more  suited  to  political  excellence.!  The  highest  classes 
can  rule  in  it ; and  the  highest  masses  must,  as  such, 
have  more  political  ability  than  the  lower  classes.  A 
life  of  labour,  an  incomplete  education,  a monotonous 
ocenpatioD,  a career  in  which  the  hands  are  used  much 
and  the  judgment  is  used  little,  cannot  create  as  much 
flexible  thought,  as  much  applicable  intelligence,  as  a life 
of  leisure,  a long  culture,  a varied  experience,  an  existence 
by  which  the  judgment  is  incessantly  exercised,  and  by 
which  it  may  be  incessantly  improved.  A country  of 
respectful  poor,  though  far  less  happy  than  where  there 
are  no  poor  to  be  respectful,  is  nevertheless  far  more  fitted 
for  the  best  government.  You  can  use  the  best  classes  of 
the  respectful  country ; you  can  only  use  the  worst  where 
every  man  thinks  he  is  as  good  as  every  other. 


338 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


It  is  evident  that  no  difficulty  can  be  greater  than  that 
of  founding  a deferential  nation.  Eespect  is  traditional ; 
it  is  given  not  to  what  is  proved  to  be  good,  but  to  what 
is  kno^vn  to  be  old.  Certain  classes  in  certain  nations 
retain  by  common  acceptance  a marked  political  prefe- 
rence, because  they  have  always  possessed  it,  and  because 
they  inherit  a sort  of  pomp  which  seems  to  make  them 
worthy  of  it.  But  in  a new  colony,  in  a community 
where  merit  may  be  equal,  and  where  there  cannot  be 
traditional  marks  of  merit  and  fitness,  it  is  obvious  that 
a political  deference  can  be  yielded  to  higher  culture, 
only  upon  proof,  first  of  its  existence,  and  next  of  its 
political  value.  But  it  is  nearly  impossible  to  give  such 
a proof  so  as  to  satisfy  persons  of  less  culture.  In  a future 
and  better  age  of  the  world  it  may  be  effected ; but  in 
this  age  the  requisite  premises  scarcely  exist ; if  the  dis- 
cussion be  effectually  open,  if  the  debate  be  fairly  begun, 
it  is  hardly  possible  to  obtain  a rational,  an  argumentative 
acquiescence  in  the  rule  of  the  cultivated  few.  As  yet  the 
few  rule  by  their  hold,  not  over  the  reason  of  the  multi- 
tude, but  over  their  imaginations,  and  their  habits ; over 
their  fancies  as  to  distant  things  they  do  not  know  at  all, 
over  their  customs  as  to  near  things  which  they  know 
very  well. 

A deferen  tial  community  in  which  the  bulk  of  the  people 
are  ignorant,  is  therefore  in  a state  of  what  is  called  in 
mechanics  unstable  equilibrium.  If  the  equilibrium  is 
once  disturbed  there  is  no  tendency  to  return  to  it,  but 
rather  to  depart  from  it.  A cone  balanced  on  its  point  is 
in  unstable  equilibrium,  for  if  you  push  it  ever  so  little  it 


CABINET  GOVEENMENT. 


339 


•vill  depart  farther  and  farther  from  its  position  and  fall 
to  the  earth,  j So  in  communities  where  the  masses  are 
ignorant  but  respectful,  if  you  once  permit  the  ignorant 
class  to  begin  to  rule  you  may  bid  farewell  to  deference 
for  everj  Their  demagogues  will  inculcate,  their  news- 
papers will  recount,  that  the  rule  of  the  existing  dynasty 
(the  people)  is  better  than  the  rule  of  the  fallen  dynasty 
(the  aristocracy).  A people  very  rarely  hears  two  sides 
of  a subject  in  which  it  is  much  interested ; the  popular 
organs  take  up  the  side  which  is  acceptable,  and  none  but 
the  popular  organs  in  fact  reach  the  people.  A people 
never  hears  censure  of  itself.  No  one  will  tell  it  that  the 
educated  minority  whom  it  dethroned  governed  better  or 
more  wisely  than  it  governs.  A democracy  will  never, 
save  after  an  awful  catastrophe,  return  what  has  once  been 
conceded  to  it,  for  to  do  so  would  be  to  admit  an  inferiority 
in  itseK,  of  which,  except  by  some  almost  unbearable  mis- 
fortune, it  could  never  be  convinced. 


ITS  HISTORY,  AND  THE  EFFECTS  OF  THAT  HISTORY, — 
CONCLUSION. 

A TOLUME  might  seem  wanted  to  say  anything  worth  say- 
ing* on  the  History  of  the  English  Constitution,  and  a 
great  and  new  volume  might  still  be  written  on  it,  if  a 
competent  writer  took  it  in  hand.  The  subject  has  never 
been  treated  by  any  one  combining  the  lights  of  the 
newest  research  and  the  lights  of  the  most  matured  phi- 
losophy. Since  the  masterly  book  of  Hallam  was  written, 
both  political  thought  and  historical  knowledge  have 
gained  much,  and  we  might  have  a treatise  applying  our 
strengthened  calculus  to  our  augmented  facts.  I do  not 
pretend  that  I could  write  such  a book,  but  there  are  a 
few  salient  particulars  which  may  be  fitly  brought  to- 
gether, both  because  of  their  past  interest  and  of  their 
present  importance. 

♦ Since  the  first  edition  of  this  book  was  published  several  valuable 
works  have  appeared,  which,  on  many  points,  throw  much  light  on  our 
early  constitutional  history,  especially  Mr.  Stubbs’  ‘ Select  Charters  and 
other  Illustrations  of  English  Constitutional  History,  from  the  Earliest 
Times  to  the  Reign  of  Edward  the  First,’  Mr.  Freeman’s  lecture  on  ‘ The 
Growth  of  the  English  Constitution,’  and  the  chapter  on  the  Anglo-Saxon 
Constitution  in  his  ‘ History  of  the  Norman  Conquest : ’ but  we  have  not 
yet  a great  and  authoritative  work  on  the  whole  subject  such  as  I wished 
for  when  I wrote  the  passage  in  the  text,  and  as  it  is  most  desirable  that 
we  should  have. 


ITS  HISTORY. 


341 


There  is  a certain  common  polity,  or  germ  of  polity, 
which  we  find  in  all  the  rude  nations  that  have  attained 
civilisation.  These  nations  seem  to  begin  in  what  I may 
call  a consultative  and  tentative  absolutism.  The  king  of 
early  days,  in  vigorous  nations,  was  not  absolute  as  despots 
now  are ; there  was  then  no  standing  army  to  repress  re- 
bellion, no  organised  espionage  to  spy  out  discontent,  no 
skilled  bureaucracy  to  smooth  the  ruts  of  obedient  life, 
The  early  king  was  indeed  consecrated  by  a religioua 
sanction ; he  was  essentially  a man  apart,  a man  above 
others,  divinely  anointed,  or  even  Grod-begotten.  But  in 
nations  capable  of  freedom  this  religious  domination  was 
never  despotic.  There  was  indeed  no  legal  limit : the 
very  words  could  not  be  translated  into  the  dialect  of 
those  times.  The  notion  of  law  as  we  have  it — of  a rule 
imposed  by  human  authority,  capable  of  being  altered  by 
that  authority  when  it  likes,  and  in  fact,  so  altered  habi- 
tually— could  not  be  conveyed  to  early  nations,  who  re- 
garded law  half  as  an  invincible  prescription,  and  half  as 
a Divine  revelation.  Law  “ came  out  of  the  king’s 
mouth;”  he  gave  it  as  Solomon  gave  judgment, — em- 
bedded in  the  particular  case,  and  upon  the  authority  of 
Heaven  as  well  as  his  own.  A Divine  limit  to  the  Divine 
revealer  was  impossible,  and  there  was  no  other  source  of 
law.  But  though  there  was  no  legal  limit,  there  was  a 
practical  limit  to  subjection  in  (what  may  be  called)  the 
pagan  part  of  human  nature, — the  inseparable  obstinacy 
of  freemen.  They  never  would  do  exactly  what  they  were 
told. 

To  early  royalty,  as  Homer  describes  it  in  Greece  and 


342 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


as  we  may  well  imagine  it  elsewhere,  there  were  always 
two  adjuncts  : one,  the  “ old  men,”  the  men  of  weight,  the 
council,  the  ^ovXrj^  of  which  the  king  asked  advice, 
from  the  debates  in  which  the  king  tried  to  learn  what 
he  could  do  and  what  he  ought  to  do.  Besides  this  there 
was  the  dyopd^  the  purely  listening  assembly,  as  some 
have  called  it,  but  the  tentative  assembly,  as  I think  it 
might  best  be  called.  The  king  came  down  to  his  as- 
sembled people  in  form  to  announce  his  will,  but  in 
reality,  speaking  in  very  modern  words,  to  “ feel  his  way.” 
He  was  sacred,  no  doubt  ; and  popular,  very  likely ; still 
he  was  half  like  a popular  premier  speaking  to  a high- 
spirited  chamber ; there  were  limits  to  his  authority  and 
power — limits  which  he  would  discover  by  trying  whether 
eager  cheers  received  his  mandate,  or  only  hollow  murmurs 
and  a thinking  silence. 

This  polity  is  a good  one  for  its  era  and  its  place,  but 
there  is  a fatal  defect  in  it.  The  reverential  associations 
upon  which  the  government  is  built  are  transmitted  ac- 
cording to  one  law,  and  the  capacity  needful  to  work  the 
government  is  transmitted  according  to  another  law. 
The  popular  homage  clings  to  the  line  of  god-descended 
kings  ; it  is  transmitted  by  inheritance.  But  very  soon 
that  line  comes  to  a child  or  an  idiot,  or  one  by  some 
defect  or  other  incapable.  Then  we  find  everywhere  the 
truth  of  the  old  saying,  that  liberty  thrives  under  weak 
princes ; then  the  listening  assembly  begins  not  only  to 
murmm',  but  to  speak ; then  the  grave  coimcil  begins  not 
so  much  to  suggest  as  to  inculcate,  not  so  much  to  advise 
as  to  enjoin. 


ITS  HISTORY. 


343 


Mr.  Grote  has  told  at  length  how  out  of  these  appen- 
dages of  the  original  kingdom  the  free  States  of  Greece 
derived  their  origin,  and  how  they  gradually  grew — the 
oligarchical  States  expanding  the  council,  and  the  demo- 
cratical  expanding  the  assembly.  The  history  has  as 
many  varieties  in  detail  as  there  were  Greek  cities,  but 
the  essence  is  the  same  everywhere.  The  political  cha- 
racteristic of  the  early  Greeks,  and  of  the  early  Eomans, 
too,  is  that  out  of  the  tentacula  of  a monarchy  they  de- 
veloped the  organs  of  a republic. 

English  history  has  been  in  substance  the  same,  though  / 
its  form  is  different,  and  its  growth  far  slower  and  longer. 
The  scale  was  larger,  and  the  elements  more  various.  A 
Greek  city  soon  got  rid  of  its  kings,  for  the  political 
sacredness  of  the  monarch  would  not  bear  the  daily  in- 
spection and  constant  criticism  of  an  eager  and  talking 
multitude.  Everywhere  in  Greece  the  slave  population — 
the  most  ignorant,  and  therefore  the  most  unsusceptible 
of  intellectual  influences — was  struck  out  of  the  account 
But  England  began  as  a kingdom  of  considerable  size, 
inhabited  by  distinct  races,  none  of  them  flt  for  prosaic 
criticism,  and  all  subject  to  the  superstition  of  royalty. 
In  early  England,  too,  royalty  was  much  more  than  a 
superstition.  A very  strong  executive  was  needed  to  keep 
down  a divided,  an  armed,  and  an  impatient  country; 
and  therefore  the  problem  of  political  development  was 
delicate.  A formed  free  government  in  a homogeneous 
nation  may  have  a strong  executive ; but  during  the 
transition  state,  while  the  republic  is  in  course  of  develop- 
ment and  the  monarchy  in  course  of  decay,  the  executive© 


344 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


is  of  necessity  weak.  The  polity  is  divided,  and  its  action 
feeble  and  failing.  The  different  orders  of  English  people 
have  progressed,  too,  at  different  rates.  The  change  in 
the  state  of  the  higher  classes  since  the  Middle  Ages  is 
enormous,  and  it  is  all  improvement;  but  the  lower  have 
varied  little,  and  many  argue  that  in  some  important 
respects  they  have  got  worse,  even  if  in  others  they  have 
got  better.  |The  development  of  the  English  Constitution 
was  of  necessity  slow,  because  a quick  one  would  have  de- 
/ Stroyed  the  executive  and  killed  the  State,  and  because  the 
most  numerous  classes,  who  changed  very  little,  were  not 
prepared  for  any  catastrophic  change  in  our  institutions J 
I cannot  presume  to  speak  of  the  time  before  the  con- 
quest, and  the  exact  nature  even  of  all  Anglo-Norman  in- 
stitutions is  perhaps  dubious : at  least,  in  nearly  all  cases 
there  have  been  many  controversies.  Political  zeal,  whe- 
ther Whig  or  Tory,  has  wanted  to  find  a model  in  the 
past ; and  the  whole  state  of  society  being  confused,  the 
precedents  altering  with  the  caprice  of  men  and  the 
chance  of  events,  ingenious  advocacy  has  had  a happy 
field.  But  all  thatl  need  speak  of  is  quite  plain.  There 
was  a great  “ council  ” of  the  realm,  to  which  the  king 
summoned  the  most  considerable  persons  in  England,  the 
persons  he  most  wanted  to  advise  him,  and  the  persons 
whose  tempers  he  was  most  anxious  to  ascertain.  Exactly 
who  came  to  it  at  first  is  obscure  and  unimportant.  I 
need  not  distinguish  between  the  magnum  concilium  in 
Parliament  ” and  the  magnum  concilium  out  of  Parlia- 
ment.” Grradually  the  principal  assemblies  summoned  by 
the  English  sovereign  took  the  precise  and  definite  form 


ITS  HISTOEY. 


345 


of  Lords  and  Commons,  as  in  their  outside  we  now  see 
them.  But  their  real  nature  was  very  different.  / The 
Parliament  of  to-day  is  a ruling  body ; the  mediaeval  Par- 
liament was,  if  I may  so  say,  an  expressive  body.  Its 
function  was  to  tell  the  executive — the  king — what  the 
nation  wished  he  should  do  ; to  some  extent,  to  guide  him 
by  new  wisdom,  and,  to  a very  great  extent,  to  guide  him 
by  new  facts^  These  facts  were  their  own  feelings,  which 
were  the  feelings  of  the  people,  because  they  were  part 
and  parcel  of  the  people.  From  thence  the  king  learned, 
or  had  the  means  to  learn,  what  the  nation  would  endure, 
and  what  it  would  not  endure ; — what  he  might  do,  and 
what  he  might  not  do.  If  he  much  mistook  this,  there 
was  a rebellion. 

There  are,  as  is  well  known,  three  great  periods  in  the 
English  Constitution.  The  first  of  these  is  the  ante-Tudor 
period.  The  English  Parliament  then  seemed  to  be  gain- 
ing extraordinary  strength  and  power.  The  title  to  the 
crown  was  uncertain ; some  monarchs  were  imbecile. 
Many  ambitious  men  wanted  to  “take  the  people  into 
partnership.”  Certain  precedents  of  that  time  were  cited 
with  grave  authority  centuries  after,  when  the  time  of 
freedom  had  really  arrived.  But  the  causes  of  this  rapid 
growth  soon  produced  an  even  more  sudden  decline. 
Confusion  fostered  it,  and  confusion  destroyed  it.  The 
structure  of  society  then  was  feudal ; the  towns  were  only 
an  adjunct  and  a make-weight.  The  principal  popular 
force  was  an  aristocratic  force,  acting  with  the  co-opera- 
tion of  the  gentry  and  yeomanry,  and  resting  on  the 
loyal  fealty  of  sworn  retainers.  The  head  of  this  force, 
23 


346 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


on  whom  its  efficiency  depended,  was  the  high  nobility. 
But  the  high  nobility  killed  itself  out.  The  great 
barons  who  adhered  to  the  Eed  Eose  ” or  the  “ White 
Eose,”  or  who  fluctuated  from  one  to  the  other,  became 
poorer,  fewer,  and  less  potent  every  year.  When 
the  great  struggle  ended  at  Bosworth,  a large  part  of  the 
greatest  combatants  were  gone.  The  restless,  aspiring, 
rich  barons,  who  made  the  civil  war,  were  broken  by 
it.  Henry  VII.  attained  a kingdom  in  which  there  was  a 
Parliament  to  advise,  but  scarcely  a Parliament  to  control. 

The  consultative  government  of  the  ante-Tudor  period 
had  little  resemblance  to  some  of  the  modern  governments 
which  French  philosophers  call  by  that  name.  The 
French  Empire,  I believe,  calls  itself  so.  But  its  assem- 
blies are  symmetrical  “ shams.”  They  are  elected  by  a uni- 
versal suffrage,  by  the  ballot,  and  in  districts  once  marked 
out  with  an  eye  to  equality,  and  still  retaining  a look  of 
equality.  But  our  English  parliaments  were  utisymmet- 
rical  realities.  They  were  elected  anyhow ; the  sheriff 
had  a considerable  license  in  sending  writs  to  boroughs, 
that  is,  he  could  in  part  pick  its  constituencies ; and  in 
each  borough  there  was  a rush  and  scramble  for  the  fran- 
chise, so  that  the  strongest  local  party  got  it,  whether  few 
or  many.  But  in  England  at  that  time  there  was  a great 
and  distinct  desire  to  know  the  opinion  of  the  nation, 
because  there  was  a real  and  close  necessity.  The  nation 
was  wanted  to  do  something — to  assist  the  sovereign  in 
some  war,  to  pay  some  old  debt,  to  contribute  its  force  and 
aid  in  the  critical  conjuncture  of  the  time.  It  would  not 
have  suited  the  ante-Tudor  kings  to  have  had  a fictitiouaf 


ITS  HISTORY. 


347 


assembly  ; they  would  have  lost  their  sole  feeler^  theii  only 
instrument  for  discovering  national  opinion.  Nor  could 
they  have  manufactured  such  an  assembly  if  they  wished. 
The  instrument  in  that  behalf  is  the  centralised  executive^ 
and  there  was  then  no  prefet  by  whom  the  opinion  of  a 
rural  locality  could  be  made  to  order,  and  adjusted  to  suit 
the  wishes  of  the  capital.  Looking  at  the  mode  of  election 
a theorist  would  say  that  these  parliaments  were  but 
chance  ” collections  of  influential  Englishmen.  There 
would  be  many  corrections  and  limitations  to  add  to  that 
statement  if  it  were  wanted  to  make  it  accurate,  but  the 
statement  itself  hits  exactly  the  principal  excellence  of 
those  parliaments.  If  not  chance  ” collections  of  English- 
men, they  were  “ undesigned  ” collections  ; no  administra- 
tions made  them  or  could  make  them.  They  were  bona- 
fide  counsellors,  whose  opinion  might  be  wise  or  unwise, 
but  was  anyhow  of  paramount  importance,  because  their 
co-operation  was  wanted  for  what  was  in  hand. 

[Legislation  as  a positive  power  was  very  secondary  in 
those  old  parliaments.  I believe  no  statute  at  all,  as  far 
as  we  know,  was  passed  in  the  reign  of  Eichard  !.>/  and  all 
the  ante-Tudor  acts  together  would  look  meagre  enough  to 
a modern  Parliamentary  agent  who  had  to  live  by  them. 
But  the  negative  action  of  parliament  upon  the  law 
was  essential  to  its  whole  idea,  and  ran  through  every  part 
of  its  use.  That  the  king  could  not  change  what  was  then 
the  almost  sacred  datum  of  the  common  law,  without  see- 
ing whether  his  nation  liked  it  or  not,  was  an  essential  part 
of  the  tentative  ” system.  The  king  had  to  feel  his  way 
in  this  exceptional,  singular  act,  as  those  ages  deemed 


348 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


original  legislation,  as  well  as  in  lesser  acts.  The  legisla- 
tion was  his  at  last ; he  enacted  after  consulting  his  Lords 
and  Commons ; his  was  the  sacred  mouth  which  gave  holy 
firmness  to  the  enactment ; but  he  only  dared  alter  the  rule 
regulating  the  common  life  of  his  people  after  consulting 
those  people  ; he  would  not  have  been  obeyed  if  he  had  not, 
by  a rude  age  which  did  not  fear  civil  war  as  we  fear  it 
now.  Many  most  important  enactments  of  that  period 
(and  the  fact  is  most  characteristic)  are  declaratory  acts. 
They  do  not  profess  to  enjoin  by  inherent  authority  what 
the  law  shall  in  future  be,  but  to  state  and  mark  what 
the  law  is  ; they  are  declarations  of  immemorial  custom, 
not  precepts  of  new  duties.  Even  in  the  Great  Charter  ” 
the  notion  of  new  enactments  was  secondary,  it  was  a great 
mixture  of  old  and  new ; it  was  a sort  of  compact  defining 
what  was  doubtful  in  floating  custom,  and  was  re-enacted 
over  and  over  again,  as  boundaries  are  perambulated  once 
a year,  and  rights  and  claims  tending  to  desuetude 
thereby  made  patent  and  cleaied  of  new  obstructions.  In 
truth,  such  great  “ charters  ” were  rather  treaties  between 
different  orders  and  factions,  confirming  ancient  rights,  or 
what  claimed  to  be  such,  than  laws  in  our  ordinary  sense. 
They  were  the  deeds  of  arrangement”  of  medisDval  society 
fifiirmed  and  re-affirmed  from  time  to  time,  and  the  prin- 
cipal controversy  was,  of  course,  between  the  king  and 
nation — the  king  trying  to  see  how  far  the  nation  would 
let  him  go,  and  the  nation  murmuring  and  recalcitrating, 
and  seeing  how  many  acts  of  administration  they  could 
prevent,  and  how  many  of  its  claims  they  could  resist. 

Sir  James  Mackintosh  says  that  Magna  Charta  con- 


ITS  HISTORY. 


349 


v'erted  the  right  of  taxation  into  the  shield  of  liberty,”  but 
it  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  The  liberty  existed  before,  and 
the  right  to  be  taxed  was  an  efflorescence  and  instance  of 
it,  not  a substratum  or  a cause.  The  necessity  of  consult- 
ing the  great  council  of  the  realm  before  taxation,  the 
principle  that  the  declaration  of  grievances  by  the  Parlia- 
ment was  to  precede  the  grant  of  supplies  to  the  sovereign, 
are  but  conspicuous  instances  of  the  primitive  doctrine 
of  the  ante-Tudor  period,  that  the  king  must  consult  the 
great  council  of  the  realm  before  he  did  anything,  since 
he  always  wanted  help.  The  right  of  self-taxation  was 
justly  inserted  in  the  great  treaty  but  it  would  have 
been  a dead  letter,  save  for  the  armed  force  and  aristocratic 
organisation  which  compelled  the  king  to  make  a treaty ; 
it  was  a result,  not  a basis — an  example,  not  a cause. 

The  civil  wars  of  many  years  killed  out  the  old  councils 
(if  I might  so  say) ; that  is,  destroyed  three  parts  of  the 
greater  nobility  who  were  its  most  potent  members,  tired 
the  small  nobility  and  the  gentry,  and  overthrew  the  aris- 
tocratic organisation  on  which  all  previous  effectual  resist- 
tance  to  the  sovereign  had  been  based. 

The  second  period  of  the  British  Constitution  begins 
with  the  accession  of  the  House  of  Tudor,  and  goes  down 
to  1688  ; it  is  in  substance  the  history  of  the  growth, 
development,  and  gradually  acquired  supremacy  of  the 
new  great  council^  I have  no  room  and  no  occasion  to 
narrate  again  the  familiar  history  of  the  many  steps  by 
which  the  slavish  Parliament  of  Henry  VIII.  grew  into 
the  murmuring  Parliament  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  the 
mutinous  Parliament  of  James  I.,  and  the  rebellious 


350 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


Parliament  of  Charles  I.  The  steps  were  many>  but  the 
energy  was  one — [the  growth  of  the  English  middle-class 
using  that  word  in  its  most  inclusive  sense,  and  its  ani- 
mation under  the  influence  of  Protestantisu;/  No  one, 
I think,  can  doubt  that  Lord  Macaulay  is  right  in  saying 
that  political  causes  would  not  alone  have  then  provoked 
such  a resistance  to  the  sovereign,  unless  propelled  by 
religious  theory.  Of  course  the  English  people  went  to 
and  fro  from  Catholicism  to  Protestantism,  and  from  Pro- 
testantism to  Catholicism  (not  to  mention  that  the  Pro- 
testantism was  of  several  shades  and  sects),  just  as  the 
first  Tudor  kings  and  queens  wished.  But  that  was  in 
the  pre-Puritan  era.  The  mass  of  Englishmen  were  in 
an  undecided  state,  just  as  Hooper  tells  us  his  father  was 
— “ Not  believing  in  Protestantism,  yet  not  disinclined  to 
it.”  Grradually,  however,  a strong  Evangelic  spirit  (as  we 
should  now  speak)  and  a still  stronger  anti-Papal  spirit 
entered  into  the  middle  sort  of  Englishmen,  and  added  to 
that  force,  fibre,  and  substance  which  they  have  never 
wanted,  an  ideal  warmth  and  fervour  which  they  have  al- 
most always  wanted.  Hence  the  saying  that  Cromwell 
founded  the  English  Constitution.  Of  course,  in  seeming, 
Cromwell’s  work  died  with  him  ; his  dynasty  was  rejected, 
his  republic  cast  aside  ; but  the  spirit  which  culminated  in 
him  never  sank  again,  never  ceased  to  be  a potent,  though 
often  a latent  and  volcanic,  force  in  the  country.  Charles  II. 
said  that  he  would  never  go  again  on  his  travels  for  any- 
thing or  anybody ; and  he  well  knew  that  though  the 
men  whom  he  met  at  Worcester  might  be  dead,  still  the 
spirit  which  warmed  them  was  alive  and  young  in  others 


ITS  HISTORY. 


351 


But  the  Cromwellian  republic  and  the  strict  Puritan 
ereed  were  utterly  hateful  to  most  Englishmen.  They 
were,  if  I may  venture  on  saying  so,  like  the  “ Eouge  ’’ 
element  in  France  and  elsewhere — the  sole  revolutionary 
force  in  the  entire  State,  and  were  hated  as  such.  Thai 
force  could  do  little  of  itself ; indeed,  its  bare  appearance 
tended  to  frighten  and  alienate  the  moderate  and  dull  as 
well  as  the  refined  and  reasoning  classes.  Alone  it  was 
impotent  against  the  solid  clay  of  the  English  apathetic 
nature.  But  give  this  fiery  element  a body  of  decent- 
looking  earth ; give  it  an  excuse  for  breaking  out  on  an 
occasion,  when  the  decent,  the  cultivated,  and  aristocratic 
classes  could  join  with  it,  and  they  could  conquer  by 
means  of  it,  and  it  could  be  disguised  in  their  covering. 

Such  an  excuse  was  found  in  1688.  ^nies  Il^by  in- 
credible and  pertinacious  folly,  irritated  not  only  the 
classes  which  had  fought  against  his  father,  but  also 
those  who  had  fought  for  his  father.  He  offended  the 
Anglican  classes  as  well  as  the  Puritan  classes  ; all  the 
Whig  nobles  and  half  the  Tory  nobles,  as  well  as  the  dis- 
senting bourgeois.  The  rule  of  Parliament  was  estab- 
lished by  the  concurrence  of  the  usual  supporters  of 
royalty  with  the  usual  opponents  of  it.  But  the  result 
was  long  weak.  Our  revolution  has  been  called  the 
minimum  of  a revolution,  because  in  law,  at  least,  it  only 
changed  the  dynasty,  but  exactly  on  that  account  it  was 
tl.3  greatest  shock  to  the  common  multitude,  who  see  the 
dynasty  but  see  nothing  else.  The  support  of  the  main 
aristocracy  held  together  the  bulk  of  the  deferential 
classes,  but  it  held  them  together  imperfectly,  uneasily. 


352 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


and  unwillingly.  Huge  masses  of  crude  prejudice  swayed 
hither  and  thither  for  many  years.  If  an  able  Stuart 
had  with  credible  sincerity  professed  Protestantism,  pro- 
bably he  might  have  overturned  the  House  of  Hanover. 
So  strong  was  inbred  reverence  for  hereditary  right,  that 
until  the  accession  of  Greorge  III.  the  English  govern- 
ment was  always  subject  to  the  unceasing  attrition  of  a 
competitive  sovereign. 

This  was  the  result  of  what  I insist  on  tediously,  but 
what  is  most  necessary  to  insist  on,  for  it  is  a cardinal 
particular  in  the  whole  topic.  Many  of  the  English 
people — the  higher  and  more  educated  portion — had 
come  to  comprehend  the  nature  of  constitutional 
government,  but  the  mass  did  not  comprehend  it.  They 
looked  to  the  sovereign  as  the  government,  and  to  the 
sovereign  only.  These  were  carried  forward  by  the  magic 
of  the  aristocracy,  and  principally  by  the  influence  of  the 
great  Whig  families  with  their  adjuncts.  Without  that 
aid  reason  or  liberty  would  never  have  held  them. 

^'Though  the  rule  of  Parliament  was  deflnitely  estab- 
lished in  1688,iyet  the  mode  of  exercising  that  rule  has 
since  changed.  At  first  Parliament  did  not  know  how  to 
exercise  it ; the  organisation  of  parties  and  the  appoint- 
ment of  cabinets  by  parties  grew  up  in  the  manner 
Macaulay  has  described  so  well.  Up  to  the  latest  period 
the  sovereign  was  supposed,  to  a most  mischievous 
extent,  to  interfere  in  the  choice  of  the  persons  to  be 
Ministers.  When  George  III.  finally  became  insane,  in 
1810,  every  one  believed  that  George  IV.,  on  assuming 
power  as  Prince  Kegent,  would  turn  out  Mr.  Perceval’s 


ITS  HISTORY. 


353 


gov  ernment  and  empower  Lord  Grey  or  Lord  Grenville, 
the  Whig  leaders,  to  form  another.  The  Tory  ministry 
wa«  carrying  on  a successful  war — a war  of  existence — 
against  Napoleon  ; but  in  the  people’s  mind,  the  necessity 
at  such  an  occasion  for  an  unchanged  government  did 
not  outweigh  the  fancy  that  George  IV.  was  a Whig, 
And  a Whig,  it  is  true,  he  had  been  before  the  French 
Revolution,  when  he  lived  an  indescribable  life  in  St. 
James’s  Street  with  Mr.  Fox.  But  Lord  Grey  and  Lord 
Grenville  were  rigid  men,  and  had  no  immoral  sort  of 
influence.  What  liberalism  of  opinion  the  Regent  ever 
had  was  frightened  out  of  him  (as  of  other  people)  by  the 
Reign  of  Terror.  He  felt,  according  to  the  saying  of 
another  monarch,  that  “ he  lived  by  being  a royalist.”  It 
soon  appeared  that  he  was  most  anxious  to  retain  Mr. 
Perceval,  and  that  he  was  most  eager  to  quarrel  with  the 
Whig  Lords.  As  we  all  know,  he  kept  the  ministry 
whom  he  found  in  office ; but  that  it  should  have  been 
thought  he  could  then  change  them,  is  a significant 
example  how  exceedingly  modern  our  notions  of  the 
despotic  action  of  Parliament  in  fact  are. 

By  the  steps  of  the  struggle  thus  rudely  mentioned  (and 
by  others  which  I have  no  room  to  speak  of,  nor  need  I), 
the  change  which  in  the  Greek  cities  was  effected  both  in 
appearance  and  in  fact,  has  been  effected  in  England,  though 
in  reality  only,  and  not  in  outside.  Here,  too,  the  appen- 
dages of  a monarchy  have  been  converted  into  the  essence 
of  a republic ; only  here,  because  of  a more  numerous 
heterogeneous  political  population,  it  is  needful  to  keep  the 
ancient  show  while  we  secretly  interpolate  the  new  reality 


354 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


This  long  and  curious  history  has  left  its  trace  on 
almost  every  part  of  our  present  political  condition  ; its 
effects  lie  at  the  root  of  many  of  our  most  important 
controversies ; and  because  these  effects  are  not  rightly 
perceived,  many  of  these  controversies  are  misconceived. 

One  of  the  most  curious  peculiarities  of  the  English 
people  is  its  dislike  of  the  executive  government.  We 
are  not  in  this  respect  “ un  vrai  peuple  moderne^'^  like 
the  Americans.  The  Americans  conceive  of  their  executive 
as  one  of  their  appointed  agents ; when  it  intervenes  in 
common  life,  it  does  so,  they  consider,  in  virtue  of  the 
mandate  of  the  sovereign  people,  and  there  is  no  invasion 
or  dereliction  of  freedom  in  that  people  interfering  with 
itself.  The  French,  the  Swiss,  and  all  nations  who 
breathe  the  full  atmosphere  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
think  so  too.  The  material  necessities  of  this  age  require 
a strong  executive ; a nation  destitute  of  it  cannot  be 
clean,  or  healthy,  or  vigorous  like  a nation  possessing  it. 
By  definition,  a nation  calling  itself  free  should  have  no 
jealousy  of  the  executive,  for  freedom  means  that  the 
nation,  the  political  part  of  the  nation,  wields  the  execu- 
tive. But  our  history  has  reversed  the  English  feeling : 
our  freedom  is  the  result  of  centuries  of  resistance,  more 
or  less  legal,  or  more  or  less  illegal,  more  or  less  audacious, 
or  more  or  less  timid,  to  the  executive  Grovernment.  We 
have,  accordingly,  inherited  the  traditions  of  conflict, 
and  preserve  them  in  the  fulness  of  victory.  We  look  on 
State  action,  not  as  our  own  action,  but  as  alien  action  ; 
as  an  imposed  tyranny  from  without,  not  as  the  consum- 
mated result  of  our  own  organised  wishes,  I remember 


ITS  HTSTOKY. 


355 


at  the  Census  of  1851  hearing  a very  sensible  old  lady 
say  that  “ the  liberties  of  England  were  at  an  end  if 
Government  might  be  thus  inquisitorial,  if  they  might  ask 
who  slept  in  your  house,  or  what  your  age  was,  what,  she 
argued,  might  they  not  ask  and  what  might  they  not  do  ? 

i The  natural  impulse  of  the  English  people  is  to  resist 
authority.  The  introduction  of  effectual  policemen  was 
not  liked ; I know  people,  old  people  I admit,  who  to  this 
day  consider  them  an  infringement  of  freedom,  and  an 
imitation  of  the  gendarmes  of  France.  If  the  original 
policemen  had  been  started  with  the  present  helmets,  the 
result  might  have  been  dubious ; there  might  have  been 
a cry  of  military  tyranny,  and  the  inbred  insubordination 
of  the  English  people  might  have  prevailed  over  the  very 
modern  love  of  ^perfect  peace  and  order.  The  old  notion 
that  the  Government  is  an  extrinsic  agency  still  rules  our 
imaginations,  though  it  is  no  longer  true,  and  though  in 
calm  and  intellectual  moments  we  well  know  it  is  not. 
Nor  is  it  merely  our  history  which  produces  this  effect ; 
we  might  get  over  that ; but  the  results  of  that  history 
co-operate.  Our  double  Government  so  acts  : when  we 
want  to  point  the  antipathy  to  the  executive,  we  refer  to 
the  jealousy  of  the  Crown,  so  deeply  imbedded  in  the  very 
substance  of  constitutional  authority ; so  many  people  are 
loth  to  admit  the  Queen,  in  spite  of  law  and  fact,  to  be 
the  people’s  appointee  and  agent,  that  it  is  a good  rhetorical 
emphasis  to  speak  of  her  prerogative  as  something  non- 
popular,  and  therefore  to  be  distrusted.  By  the  very  na- 
ture of  our  Government  our  executive  cannot  be  liked  and 
trusted  as  the  Swiss  or  the  American  is  liked  and  trusted 


356 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


Out  of  the  same  history  and  the  same  results  proceed 
our  tolerance  of  those  “ local  authorities  ” which  so  puzzle 
many  foreigners.  In  the  struggle  with  the  Crown  these 
local  centres  served  as  props  and  fulcrums.  In  the  early 
parliaments  it  was  the  local  bodies  who  sent  members  to 
parliament,  the  counties,  and  the  boroughs ; and  in  that 
way,  and  because  of  their  free  life,  the  parliament  was 
free  too.  If  active,  real  bodies  had  not  sent  the  represen- 
tatives, they  would  have  been  powerless.  This  is  very 
much  the  reason  why  our  old  rights  of  suffrage  were  so 
various ; the  Grovernment  let  whatever  people  happened  to 
be  the  strongest  in  each  town  choose  the  members.  They 
applied  to  the  electing  bodies  the  test  of  “ natural  selec- 
tion whatever  set  of  people  were  locally  strong  enough 
to  elect,  did  so.  Afterwards,  in  the  civil  war,  many  of  the 
corporations,  like  that  of  London,  were  important  bases  of 
resistance.  The  case  of  London  is  typical  and  remarkable. 
Probably,  if  there  is  any  body  more  than  another  which 
an  educated  Englishman  now-a-days  regards  with  little 
favour,  it  is  the  Corporation  of  London.  He  connects  it 
with  hereditary  abuses  perfectly  preserved,  with  large 
revenues  imperfectly  accounted  for,  with  a system  which 
stops  the  principal  city  government  at  an  old  archway, 
with  the  perpetuation  of  a hundred  detestable  parishes, 
with  the  maintenance  of  a horde  of  luxurious  and  useless 
bodies.  For  the  want  of  all  which  makes  Paris  nice  and 
splendid  we  justly  reproach  the  Corporation  of  London ; for 
the  existence  of  much  of  what  makes  London  mean  and 
squalid  we  justly  reproach  it  too.  Yet  the  Corporation 
df  London  was  for  centuries  a bulwark  of  English  liberty. 


ITS  HISTORY. 


357 


The  conscious  support  of  the  near  and  organised  capital 
gave  the  Long  Parliament  a vigour  and  vitality  which 
they  could  have  found  nowhere  else.  Their  leading 
patriots  took  refuge  in  the  City,  and  the  nearest  approach 
to  an  English  “ sitting  in  permanence”  is  the  committee  at 
Gruildhall,  where  all  members  ‘Hhat  came  were  to  have 
voices.”  Down  to  Greorge  III.’s  time  the  City  was  a useful 
centre  of  popular  judgment.  Here,  as  elsewhere,  we  have 
built  into  our  polity  pieces  of  the  scaffolding  by  which  it 
was  erected. 

De  Tocqueville  indeed  used  to  maintain  that  in  this 
matter  the  English  were  not  merely  historically  excusable, 
but  likewise  politically  judicious.  He  founded  what  may 
be  called  the  culte  of  corporations.  And  it  was  natural 
that  in  France,  where  there  is  scarcely  any  power  of  self- 
organisation in  the  people,  where  the  prefet  must  be 
asked  upon  every  subject,  and  take  the  initiative  in  every 
movement,  a solitary  thinker  should  be  repelled  from  the 
exaggerations  of  which  he  knew  the  evil,  to  the  contrary 
exaggeration  of  which  he  did  not.  But  in  a country  like 
England,  where  business  is  in  the  air,  where  we  can  or- 
ganise a vigilance  committee  on  every  abuse  and  an  execu- 
tive committee  for  every  remedy — as  a matter  of  political 
instruction,  which  was  De  Tocqueville’s  point — we  need 
not  care  how  much  power  is  delegated  to  outlying  bodies, 
and  how  much  is  kept  for  the  central  body.  We  have  had 
the  instruction  municipalities  could  give  us : we  have  been 
through  all  that.  Now  we  are  quite  grown  up,  and  can 
put  away  childish  things. 

The  same  causes  account  for  the  innumerable  anomalies 


358 


THE  ENGLISH  CONSTITUTION. 


of  our  polity.  I own  that  I do  not  entirely  sympathise 
with  the  horror  of  these  anomalies  which  haunts  some  of 
our  best  critics.  It  is  natural  that  those  who  by  special 
and  admirable  culture  have  come  to  look  at  all  things 
upon  the  artistic  side,  should  start  back  from  these  queer 
peculiarities.  But  it  is  natural  also  that  persons  used 
to  analyse  political  institutions  should  look  at  these 
anomalies  with  a little  tenderness  and  a little  interest. 
They  may  have  something  to  teach  us.  Political  philo- 
sophy is  still  more  imperfect ; it  has  been  framed  from 
observations  taken  upon  regular  specimens  of  politics  and 
States  ; as  to  these  its  teaching  is  most  valuable.  But  we 
must  ever  remember  that  its  data  are  imperfect.  The 
lessons  are  good  where  its  primitive  assumptions  hold, 
but  may  be  false  where  those  assumptions  fail.  A philoso- 
phical politician  regards  a political  anomaly  as  a scientific 
physician  regards  a rare  disease — it  is  to  him  an  “interest- 
ing case.”  There  may  still  be  instruction  here,  though 
we  have  worked  out  the  lessons  of  common  cases.  I can- 
not, therefore,  join  in  the  full  cry  against  anomalies ; in 
my  judgment  it  may  quickly  overrun  the  scent,  and  so  miss 
what  we  should  be  glad  to  find. 

Subject  to  this  saving  remark,  however,  I not  only 
admit,  but  maintain,  that  our  constitution  is  full  of  curious 
oddities,  which  are  impeding  and  mischievous,  and  ought 
to  be  struck  out.  Our  law  very  often  reminds  one  of 
those  outskirts  of  cities  where  you  cannot  for  a long  time 
tell  how  the  streets  come  to  wind  about  in  so  capricious 
and  serpent-like  a manner.  At  last  it  strikes  you  that 
they  grew  up,  house  by  house,  on  the  devious  tracks  of 


ITS  HISTORY. 


359 


the  old  green  lanes  ; and  if  you  follow  on  to  the  existing 
fields,  you  may  often  find  the  change  half  complete.  Just 
BO  the  lines  of  our  constitution  were  framed  in  old  eras  of 
sparse  population,  few  wants,  and  simple  habits ; and  we 
adhere  in  seeming  to  their  shape,  though  civilisation  has 
come  with  its  dangers,  complications,  and  enjoyments. 
These  anomalies,  in  a hundred  instances,  mark  the  old 
boundaries  of  a constitutional  struggle.  The  casual  line 
was  traced  according  to  the  strength  of  deceased  com- 
batants ; succeeding  generations  fought  elsewhere ; and 
the  hesitating  line  of  a half-drawn  battle  was  left  to  stand 
for  a perpetual  limit. 

I do  not  count  as  an  anomaly  the  existence  of  O'xr  double 
government,  with  all  its  infinite  accidents,  though  half 
the  superficial  peculiarities  that  are  often  complained  of 
arise  out  of  it.  The  co-existence  of  a Queen’s  seeming 
prerogative  and  a Downing  Street’s  real  government  is 
just  suited  to  such  a country  as  this,  in  such  an  age  as 
ours.* 

* So  well  is  our  real  Government  concealed,  that  if  you  tell  a cabman  to 
drive  to  ‘ Downing  Street  * he  most  likely  will  never  have  heard  of  it,  and 
will  not  in  the  least  know  where  to  take  you.  It  is  only  a ‘ disguised  re- 
public* which  is  suited  to  such  a being  as  the  Englishman  in  luch  a century 
M the  nineteenth. 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS 


LOED  BEOUGHAM. 
SIE  EOBEET  PEEL. 


24 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM/ 


It  was  a bold,  perhaps  a rash  idea,  to  collect  the  writings 
of  Henry  Brougham.  They  were  written  at  such  distant 
dates;  their  subjects  are  so  various;  they  are  often  so 
wedged  into  the  circumstances  of  an  age, — that  they 
scarcely  look  natural  in  a series  of  volumes.  Some  men, 
doubtless,  by  a strong  grasp  of  intellect,  have  compacted 
together  subjects  as  various  ; the  fingermarks  of  a few  are 
on  all  human  knowledge ; others,  by  a rare  illuminative 
power,  have  lit  up  as  many  with  a light  that  seems  pe- 
culiar to  themselves : Franciscus  Baconus  sic  cogitavit 
may  well  illustrate  an  opera  omnia.  But  Lord  Brougham 
has  neither  power ; his  restless  genius  has  no  claim  to  the 
still  illuminating  imagination  ; his  many-handed,  appre- 
hensive intelligence  is  scarcely  able  to  fuse  and  concen- 
trate. Variety  is  his  taste,  and  versatility  his  power. 
His  career  has  not  been  quiet.  For  many  years  rushing 
among  the  details  of  an  age,  he  has  written  as  he  ran. 


• Works  of  Henry  Lord  Urougham,  F.K.S.,  Member  of  the  National  In- 
stitute of  France  and  the  Eoyal  Academy  of  Naples.  London  and  Glasgow: 
Grifiin  & Co. 


364 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


There  are  not  many  undertakings  bolder  than  to  collect 
the  works  of  such  a life  and  such  a man. 

The  edition  itself  seems  a good  one.  The  volumes 
are  convenient  in  size,  well  printed,  and  fairly  arranged. 
The  various  writings  it  contains  have  been  revised,  but 
not  over-revised,  by  their  author.  It  is  not,  however,  of 
the  collection  that  we  wish  to  speak.  We  would  endeavour, 
so  far  as  a few  hasty  pages  may  serve,  to  delineate  the 
career  and  character  of  the  writer.  The  attempt  is  among 
the  most  difficult.  He  is  still  among  us ; we  have  not  the 
materials,  possibly  not  the  impartiality,  of  posterity.  Nor 
have  we  the  familiar  knowledge  of  contemporaries ; the 
time  when  Lord  Brougham  exerted  his  greatest  faculties 
is  beyond  the  political  memory  of  younger  men.  There 
are  no  sufficient  books  on  the  events  of  a quarter  of  a 
century  ago,  we  have  only  traditions ; and  this  must  be 
our  excuse  if  we  fall,  or  may  seem  to  fall,  into  error  and 
confusion. 

The  years  immediately  succeeding  the  great  peace  were 
years  of  sullenness  and  difficulty.  The  idea  of  the  war 
had  passed  away ; the  thrill  and  excitement  of  the  great 
struggle  were  no  longer  felt.  We  had  maintained,  with 
the  greatest  potentate  of  modern  times,  a successful  con- 
test for  existence : we  had  our  existence,  but  we  had  no 
more  ; our  victory  had  been  great,  but  it  had  no  fruits. 
By  the  aid  of  pertinacity  and  capital,  we  had  vanquished 
genius  and  valour ; but  no  visible  increase  of  European 
influence  followed.  Napoleon  said,  that  Wellington  had 
made  peace  as  if  he  had  been  defeated.  We  had  delivered 
the  Continent ; such  was  our  natural  idea : but  the  Con- 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


365 


Mnent  went  its  own  way.  There  was  nothing  in  its  state 
to  please  the  everyday  Englishman.  There  were  kings 
and  emperors ; ^ which  was  very  well  for  foreigners,  they 
had  always  been  like  that ; but  it  was  not  many  kings 
could  pay  ten  per  cent,  income-tax.’  Absolutism,  as  such, 
cannot  be  popular  in  a free  country.  The  Holy  Alliance, 
which  made  a religion  of  despotism,  was  scarcely  to  be 
reconciled  with  the  British  constitution.  Altogether  we 
had  vanquished  Napoleon,  but  we  had  no  pleasure  in  what 
came  after  him.  The  cause  which  agitated  our  hearts  was 
gone ; there  was  no  longer  a noise  of  victories  in  the  air ; 
continental  affairs  were  dead,  despotic,  dull ; we  scarcely 
liked  to  think  that  we  had  made  them  so ; with  weary 
dissatisfaction  we  turned  to  our  own  condition. 

This  was  profoundly  unsatisfactory.  Trade  was  de- 
pressed ; agriculture  ruinous ; the  working  classes  disaf- 
fected. During  the  war,  our  manufacturing  industry  had 
grown  most  rapidly ; there  was  a not  unnatural  expectation 
that,  after  a general  peace,  the  rate  of  increase  would  be 
accelerated.  The  whole  continent,  it  was  considered, 
would  be  opened  to  us;  Milan  and  Berlin  decrees  no 
longer  excluded  us ; Napoleon  did  not  now  interpose  be- 
tween Hhe  nation  of  shopkeepers’  and  its  customers;  now 
he  was  at  St.  Helena,  surely  those  customers  would  buy  ? 
It  was  half-forgotten  that  they  could  not.  The  drain  of 
capital  for  the  war  had  been,  at  times,  heavily  felt  in 
England ; there  had  been  years  of  poverty  and  discredit ; 
rtill  our  industry  had  gone  on,  our  workshops  had  not 
stopped.  W e had  never  known  what  it  was  to  be  the  seat 
of  war,  as  well  as  a power  at  war.  We  had  never  knowo 


366 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


our  burdens  enormously  increased,  just  when  our  industry 
was  utterly  stopped ; disarranged  as  trading  credit  some- 
times was,  it  had  not  bt^n  destroyed.  No  conscription 
had  draiued  us  of  our  most  efficient  consumers.  The  Con- 
tinent, south  and  north,  had,  though  not  every  where 
alike,  suffered  all  these  evils ; its  population  were  poor, 
harassed,  depressed.  They  could  not  buy  our  manufac- 
tures, for  they  had  no  money.  The  large  preparations  for 
a continental  export  lay  on  hand ; our  traders  were  angry 
and  displeased.  Nor  was  content  to  be  found  in  the 
agricultural  districts.  During  the  war,  the  British  farmer 
had  inevitably  a monopoly  of  this  market ; at  the  approach 
of  peace,  his  natural  antipathy  to  foreign  corn  influenced 
the  legislature.  The  Home  Secretary  of  the  time  had 
taken  into  consideration,  whether  76s.  or  80s.  was  such  a 
remunerating  price  as  the  agriculturist  should  obtain,  and 
a Corn-law  had  passed  accordingly.  But  no  law  could 
give  the  farmer  famine-prices,  when  there  was  scarcity 
here  and  plenty  abroad.  There  were  riots  at  the  passing 
of  the  ^ Bread-tax,’  as  it  was  ; in  1813,  the  price  of  corn 
was  120s.;  the  rural  mind  was  sullen  in  1816,  when, 
it  sunk  to  57s.  The  protection  given,  though  unpopular 
with  the  poor,  did  not  satisfy  the  farmer. 

The  lower  orders  in  the  manufacturing  districts  were, 
of  necessity,  in  great  distress.  The  depression  of  trade 
produced  its  inevitable  results  of  closed  mills  and  scanty 
employment.  Wages,  when  they  could  be  obtained,  were 
very  low.  The  artisan  population  was  then  new  to  the 
vicissitudes  of  industry  : how  far  they  are,  even  now, 
instructed  in  the  laws  of  trade,  recent  prosperity  will 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


367 


hardly  let  us  judge ; but,  at  that  time,  they  had  no  doubt 
that  it  was  the  fault  of  the  State,  and  if  not  of  particular 
statesmen,  then  of  the  essential  institutions,  that  they  were 
in  want.  They  believed  the  Government  ought  to  regulate 
their  remuneration,  and  make  it  sufficient.  During  some 
straitened  years  of  the  war,  the  name  of  ‘ Luddites  ’ be- 
came known.  They  had  principally  shown  their  discontent 
by  breaking  certain  machines,  which  they  fancied  deprived 
them  of  work.  After  the  peace,  the  records  of  the  time 
are  full  of  ‘ Spencean  Philanthropists,’  ‘ Hampden  Clubs,’ 
and  similar  associations,  all  desiring  a great  reform — some 
of  mere  politics,  others  of  the  law  of  property  and  all 
social  economy.  Large  meetings  were  every  where  held, 
something  like  those  of  the  year  1839  : a general  insur- 
rection, doubtless  a wild  dream  of  a few  hot-brained 
dreamers,  was  fancied  to  have  been  really  planned.  The 
name  ‘Eadical’  came  to  be  associated  with  this  dis- 
content. The  spirit  which,  in  after-years,  clamoured 
distinctly  for  the  five  points  of  the  Charter,  made  itself 
heard  in  mutterings  and  threatenings. 

Nor  were  the  capitalists,  who  had  created  the  new 
wealth,  socially  more  at  ease.  Many  of  them,  as  large 
employers  of  labour,  had  a taste  for  Toryism ; the  rule  of 
the  people  to  them  meant  the  rule  of  their  work-people. 
Some  of  the  wealthiest  and  most  skilful  became  associated 
with  the  aristocracy ; but  it  was  in  vain  with  the  majority 
to  attempt  it.  Between  them  and  the  possessors  of 
Hereditary  wealth,  there  was  fixed  a great  gulf ; the 
contrast  of  habits,  speech,  manners,  was  too  wide.  The 
two  might  coincide  in  particular  opinions ; they  might 


368 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


agree  to  support  the  same  institutions;  they  might  set 
forth,  in  a Conservative  creed,  the  same  form  of  sound 
words  : but,  though  the  abstract  conclusions  were  identical, 
the  mode  of  holding  them — to  borrow  a subtlety  of  Father 
Newman’s — was  exceedingly  different.  The  refined,  dis- 
criminating, timorous  immobility  of  the  aristocracy  was 
distinct  from  the  coarse,  dogmatic,  keep-downishness  of 
the  manufacturer.  Yet  more  marked  was  the  contrast, 
when  the  opposite  tendencies  of  temperament  had  pro- 
duced, as  they  soon  could  not  but  do,  a diversity  of 
opinion.  The  case  was  not  quite  new  in  England.  Mr. 
Burke  spoke  of  the  tendency  of  the  first  East  Indians  to 
lacobinism.  They  could  not,  he  said,  bear  that  their 
present  importance  should  have  no  proportion  to  their 
recently-acquired  riches.  No  extravagant  fortunes  have, 
in  this  century,  been  made  by  Englishmen  in  India;  but 
Lancashire  has  been  a California.  Families  have  been 
created  there,  whose  names  we  all  know,  which  we  think 
of  when  we  mention  wealth ; some  of  which  are  now,  by 
lapse  of  time,  passing  into  the  hereditary  caste  of  re- 
cognised opulence.  This,  however,  has  been  a work  of 
time  : and,  before  it  occurred,  there  was  no  such  inter- 
mediate class  between  the  new  wealth  and  the  old.  ‘ It 
takes,’  it  is  said  that  Sir  Eobert  Peel  observed,  Hhree 
generations  to  make  a gentleman.’  In  the  mean  time, 
there  was  an  inevitable  misunderstanding ; the  new  cloth 
was  too  coarse  for  the  old.  Besides  this,  many  actual 
institutions  offended  the  eyes  of  the  middle  class.  The 
state  of  the  law  was  opposed  both  to  their  prejudices  and 
interests  : that  you  could  only  recover  your  debtfi  by 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


369 


Spending  more  than  the  debt,  was  hard ; and  the  injury 
was  aggravated,  the  money  was  spent  in  ‘special  pleading’ 
— ‘ in  putting  a plain  thing  so  as  to  perplex  and  mislead 
a plain  man,’  ‘ Lord  Eldon  and  the  Court  of  Chancery,’ 
as  Sydney  Smith  expressed  it,  ‘ sat  heavy  on  mankind.’ 
The  existence  of  slavery  in  our  colonies,  strongly  supported 
by  a strong  aristocratic  and  parliamentary  influence,  of- 
fended the  principles  of  middle-class  Christianity,  and  the 
natural  sentiments  of  simple  men.  The  cruelty  of  the 
penal  law — the  punishing  with  death  sheep-stealing  and 
shop-lifting — ^jarred  the  humanity  of  that  second  order  of 
English  society,  which,  from  their  habits  of  reading  and 
non-reading,  may  be  called,  jpar  excellence^  the  scriptural 
classes.  The  routine  harshness  of  a not  very  wise  executive 
did  not  mitigate  the  feeling.  The  modus  operandi  of 
Government  appeared  coarse  and  oppressive. 

We  seemed  to  pay,  too,  a good  deal  for  what  we  did 
not  like.  At  the  close  of  the  war,  the  ten  per  cent,  in- 
come-tax was  of  course  heavily  oppressive.  The  public 
expenditure  was  beyond  argument  lavish ; and  it  was  spent 
in  pensions,  sinecures  (^them  idlers’  in  the  speech  of 
Lancashire),  and  a mass  of  sundries,  that  an  economical 
man  of  business  will  scarcely  admit  to  be  necessary,  and 
that  even  now,  after  countless  prunings,  produce  perio- 
dically ‘ financial  reform  associations,’  ‘ administrative 
leagues,’  and  other  combinations  which  amply  testify  the 
enmity  of  thrifty  efficiency  to  large  figures  and  muddling 
management.  There  had  remained  from  the  eighteenth 
century  a tradition  of  corruption,  an  impression  that 
direct  pecuniary  malversation  pervaded  the  public  offices ; 


370 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


an  idea  true  in  the  days  of  Eigby  or  Bubb  Dodington, 
but  which,  like  many  other  impressions,  continued  to  exist 
many  years  after  the  facts  in  which  it  originated  had 
passed  away.  Grovernment,  in  the  hands  of  such  a man 
as  Lord  Liverpool,  was  very  different  from  Grovernment  in 
the  hajads  of  Sir  Eobert  Walpole : respectability  was 
exacted : of  actual  money-taking  there  was  hardly  any. 
Still,  especially  among  inferior  oflScials,  there  was  some- 
thing to  shock  modern  purity.  The  size  of  jobs  was 
large : if  the  Treasury  of  that  time  could  be  revived,  it 
would  be  depressed  at  the  littleness  of  whatever  is  per- 
petrated in  modern  administration.  There  were  petty 
abuses,  too,  in  the  country — in  municipalities — in  charit- 
able trusts — in  all  outlying  public  moneys,  which  seemed 
to  the  offended  man  of  business,  who  saw  them  with  his 
own  eyes,  evident  instances  confirming  his  notion  of  the 
malpractices  of  Downing  Street.  ^ There  are  only  five 
little  boys  in  the  school  of  Eichester ; they  may  cost  200L, 
and  the  income  is  2,000?.,  and  the  trustees  don’t  account 
for  the  balance ; which  is  the  way  things  are  done  in 
England : we  keep  an  aristocracy,’  &c.  The  whole  of 
this  feeling  concentrated  into  a detestation  of  rotten 
boroughs.  The  very  name  was  enough : that  Lord  De- 
vour, with  two  patent  sinecures  in  the  Exchequer  and  a 
good  total  for  assisting  in  nothing  at  the  Audit  OflSce, 
should  return  two  members  for  one  house,  while  Birming- 
ham, where  they  made  buttons, — ^ as  good  buttons  as  there 
are  in  the  world.  Sir,’ — returned  no  members  at  all,  was 
an  evident  indication  that  Eeform  was  necessary.  Mr. 
Canning  was  an  eloquent  man ; but  ‘ even  he  could  not 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM.  371 

say  that  a decaying  stump  was  ^ the  people.^  Gratton  and 
Old  Sarum  became  unpopular.  The  source  of  power 
seemed  absurd,  and  the  use  of  power  was  tainted.  Side 
by  side  with  the  incipient  Chartism  of  the  Northern 
operative,  there  was  growing  daily  more  distinct  and  clear 
the  Manchester  philosophy,  which  has  since  expressed 
itself  in  the  Anti-corn-law  League,  and  which,  for  good 
and  evil,  is  now  an  element  so  potent  in  our  national  life. 
Both  creeds  were  forms  of  discontent.  And  the  counter- 
poise was  wanting.  The  English  constitution  has  pro- 
vided that  there  shall  always  be  one  estate  raised  above 
the  storms  of  passion  and  controversy,  which  all  parties 
may  respect  and  honour.  The  King  is  to  be  loved.  But 
this  theory  requires,  for  a real  eflBciency,  that  the  throne 
be  filled  by  such  a person  as  can  be  loved.  In  those  times 
it  was  otherwise.  The  nominal  possessor  of  the  crown 
was  a very  old  man,  whom  an  incurable  malady  had  long 
sequestered  from  earthly  things.  The  actual  possessor  of 
the  royal  authority  was  a voluptuary  of  overgrown  person, 
now  too  old  for  healthy  pleasure,  and  half-sickened  himself 
at  the  corrupt  pursuits  in  which,  nevertheless,  he  indulged 
perpetually.  His  domestic  vices  had  become  disgracefully 
public.  Whatever  might  be  the  truth  about  Queen 
Caroline,  no  one  could  say  she  had  been  well  treated. 
There  was  no  loyalty  on  which  suffering  workers,  or  an 
angry  middle  class,  could  repose : all  through  the  realm 
there  was  a miscellaneous  agitation,  a vague  and  wander- 
ing din^content. 

The  official  mind  of  the  time  was  troubled.  We  have 
a record  of  its  speculations  in  the  life  of  Lord  Sidmouth, 


372 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


who  more  thau  any  one  perhaps  embodied  it.  He  had 
been  Speaker,  and  was  much  inclined  to  remedy  the  dis- 
content of  the  middle  classes  by  ‘naming  them  to  the 
House.’  A more  conscientious  man  perhaps  has  never 
filled  a public  position.  If  the  forms  of  the  House  of 
Commons  had  been  intuitively  binding,  no  one  could  have 
obeyed  them  better : the  ‘ mace  ’ was  a ‘ counsel  of  per- 
fection’ to  him;  all  disorder  hateful.  In  the  Home 
Office  it  was  the  same.  The  Luddites  were  people  who 
would  not  obey  the  Speaker.  Constituted  authority  must 
be  enforced.  The  claims  of  a suffering  multitude  were 
not  so  much  neglected  as  unappreciated.  A certain  il- 
liberality,  as  we  should  now  speak,  pervades  the  whole 
kind  of  thought.  The  most  striking  feature  is  an  indis- 
position, which  by  long  indulgence  has  become  an  inability, 
to  comprehend  another  person’s  view,  to  put  oneself  in 
another’s  mental  place,  to  think  what  he  thinks,  to  con- 
ceive what  he  inevitably  is.  Lord  Sidmouth  referred  to 
the  file.  He  found  that  Mr.  Pitt  had  put  down  disaffection 
by  severe  measures.  Accordingly,  he  suspended  the 
Habeas-Corpus  Act,  passed  six  Acts,  commended  a Peterloo 
massacre,  not  with  conscious  unfeelingness,  but  from  an 
absorbed  officiality,  from  a knowledge  that  this  was  what 
‘ the  department  ’ had  done  before,  and  an  inference  that 
this  must  be  done  again.  As  for  the  reforming  ideas  of 
the  middle  classes,  red  tape  had  never  tied  up  such 
notions : perhaps  it  was  the  French  Eevolution  over  again : 
you  could  not  tolerate  them. 

Between  such  a dominant  mind  as  this,  and  such  a 
Buhject  mind  as  has  been  described,  there  was  a daily 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


373 


friction.  The  situation  afforded  obvious  advantages  to 
enterprising  men.  Its  peculiarity  did  not  escape  the 
shrewd  eyes  of  John,  Lord  Eldon.  ‘ If,’  said  the  Conser- 
vative Chancellor,  ^ I were  to  begin  life  again,  d ^n  my 

eyes,  but  I would  begin  as  an  agitator.’  Henry  Brougham 
did  so  begin.  During  the  war  he  had  distinguished  him- 
self in  the  exposition  of  the  grievances  of  the  trading 
interest.  Our  Grovernment  had  chosen  a mode  of  carrying 
it  on  specially  fitted  to  injure  our  commerce.  ‘Napoleon 
had  said,  that  no  vessel  should  touch  a British  port,  and  then 
enter  a French  one,  or  one  under  French  control.  The 
Orders  in  Council  said,  that  no  vessel  whatever  should 
enter  any  such  port  without  having  first  touched  at  some 
port  in  Great  Britain.’  The  natural  results  were  the 
annihilation  of  our  trade  with  the  Continent,  and  a quar- 
rel with  the  United  States.  The  merchants  of  the  country 
were  alarmed  at  both  consequences.  Perhaps  until  then 
men  hardly  knew  how  powerful  our  trading  classes  had 
become.  Meetings  were  held  in  populous  places;  petitions 
in  great  numbers — an  impressive  and  important  thing  in 
those  times — were  presented.  Wherever  foreign  commerce 
existed,  the  discontent  expressed  itself  in  murmurs.  The 
forms  of  the  House  of  Commons  were  far  more  favourable 
than  they  now  are  to  an  action  from  without ; and  this  is 
not  unnatural,  since  there  had  been  as  yet  but  few  actions 
from  without,  and  it  had  not  been  necessary  to  have  a 
guard  against  them.  The  petitions,  as  has  been  said, 
were  numerous ; and  on  the  presentation  of  each  there 
was  a speech  from  the  member  presenting  it,  trying 
to  bring  on  a debate,  and  suggesting  topics  which 


374 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


might  irritate  the  ministry  and  convince  the  country, 
Mr.  Brougham  was  always  in  his  place.'  ‘Hardly  an 
hour  passed  without  detecting  some  false  statement 
or  illogical  argument;  hardly  a night  passed  without 
gaining  some  convert  to  the  cause  of  truth.’  The  result 
was  decisive.  ‘ Although  opposed  by  the  whole  weight  of 
the  Government  both  in  public  and  out  of  doors ; although 
at  first  vigorously  resisted  by  the  energy,  the  acuteness, 
the  activity,  and  the  expertness,  which  made  Mr.  Perceval 
one  of  the  first  debaters  of  his  day ; although,  after  his 
death,  the  father  of  the  system,  with  all  his  fire  and  with 
his  full  knowledge  of  the  subject, — nay  although’  the 
ministry  risked  their  existence  on  the  question,  the  victory 
remained  with  the  petitioners.  The  Orders  in  Council 
were  abolished,  and  the  efficacy  of  agitation  proved.  The 
session  of  181 6 offered  an  example  yet  more  remarkable 
of  the  same  tactics  being  attended  with  signal  success. 
On  the  termination  of  the  war,  the  Government  were 
determined,  instead  of  repealing  the  whole  income-tax, 
which  the  law  declared  to  be  ‘ for  and  during  the  con- 
i/inuance  of  the  war,  and  no  longer,’  to  ‘ retain  one-half  of 
it.’  ‘As  soon  as  this  intention  was  announced,  sev*eral 
meetings  were  held.’  Some  petitions  were  presented. 
Mr.  Brougham  declared  that,  if  the  motion  ‘ were  pressed 
on  Thursday,  he  should  avail  himself  of  the  forms  of  the 
House.’  Of  course  the  unpopularity  of  paying  money  was 
decisive : the  income-tax  fell.  The  same  faculty  of  ag- 
gression, which  had  been  so  successful  in  these  instances, 

* This  and  th.e  following  quotations  are  from  the  Speeches  of  Lord 
Brougham  and  the  Introduction  to  them,  published  in  1838  ; the  latter  wert 
written  b}  himself. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


3Y5 


was  immediately  so  applied  as  to  give  voice  to  the  sullen- 
ness of  the  country ; to  express  forms  of  discontent  as  real, 
though  not  with  an  object  as  determinate.  Mr.  Brougham 
did  not  understate  his  case : ^ There  is  one  branch  of  the 
subject  which  I shall  pass  over  altogether, — I mean  the 
amount  of  the  distresses  which  are  now  universally  ad- 
mitted to  prevail  over  almost  every  part  of  the  empire. 
Upon  this  topic  all  men  are  agreed ; the  statements  con- 
nected with  it  are  as  unquestionable  as  they  are  afflicting.’ 
Nor  did  he  shrink  from  detail.  ^ I shall  suppose,’  he  ob- 
served to  the  House,  ^ a farm  of  400  acres  of  fair  good 
land,  yielding  a rent  of  from  500L  to  600Z.  a-year.’  ‘ It 
will  require  a four  years’  course, — 200  acres  being  in  corn, 
100  in  fallow,  and  100  in  hay  and  grass  and  he  seems 
to  prove  that  at  least  it  ought  not  to  answer,  ^ indepen- 
dently of  the  great  rise  in  lime  and  all  sorts  of  manure.’ 
The  commercial  mania  of  the  time  takes  its  turn  in  the 
description.  ‘ After  the  cramped  state  in  which  the 
enemy’s  measures  and  our  own  retaliation  (as  we  termed 
it)  had  kept  our  trade  for  some  years,  when  the  events  of 
spring  1814  suddenly  opened  the  Continent,  a rage  for 
exporting  goods  of  every  kind  burst  forth,  only  to  be  ex- 
plained by  reflecting  on  the  previous  restrictions  we  had 
been  labouring  under,  and  only  to  be  equalled  (thougli 
not  in  extent)  by  some  of  the  mercantile  delusions  con 
nected  with  South  American  speculations.  Every  thing 
that  could  be  shipped  was  sent  off ; all  the  capital  that 
could  be  laid  hold  of  was  embarked.  The  frenzy,  I can 
call  it  nothing  less,  after  the  experience  of  1806  and  1810, 
descended  to  persons  in  the  humblest  circumstances,  and 


376 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


the  farthest  removed,  by  their  pursuits,  from  commercial 
cares.  It  may  give  the  committee  some  idea  of  this 
disease,  if  I state  what  I know  to  have  happened  in  one 
or  two  places.  Not  only  clerks  and  labourers,  but  menial 
servants,  engaged  the  little  sums  which  they  had  been 
laying  up  for  a provision  against  old  age  and  sickness ; 
persons  went  round  tempting  them  to  adventure  in  the 
trade  to  Holland,  and  Grermany,  and  the  Baltic;  they 
risked  their  mite  in  the  hopes  of  boundless  profits ; it 
went  with  the  millions  of  the  more  regular  traders : the 
bubble  soon  burst,  like  its  predecessors  of  the  South  Sea, 
the  Mississippi,  and  Buenos  Ayres  ; English  goods  were 
selling  for  much  less  in  Holland  and  the  north  of  Europe, 
than  in  London  and  Manchester  ; in  most  places  they  were 
lying  a dead  weight  without  any  sale  at  all ; and  either 
no  returns  whatever  were  received,  or  pounds  came  back 
for  thousands  that  had  gone  forth.  The  great  speculators 
broke ; the  middling  ones  lingered  out  a precarious  ex- 
istence, deprived  of  all  means  of  continuing  their  dealings 
either  at  home  or  abroad ; the  poorer  dupes  of  the  delusion 
had  lost  their  little  hoards,  and  went  upon  the  parish  the 
next  mishap  that  befell  them ; but  the  result  of  the  whole 
has  been  much  commercial  distress — a caution  now  ab- 
solutely necessary  in  trying  new  adventures — a prodigious 
diminution  in  the  demand  for  manufactures,  and  indirectly 
a serious  defalcation  in  the  effectual  demand  for  the  pro- 
duce of  land.’  Next  year  he  described  as  the  worst  season 
ever  known.  The  year  1812,  a year  before  esteemed  one 
of  much  suffering,  rose  in  comparison  to  one  of  actual 
prosperity.  He  began  with  the  ‘clothing,  a branch  of 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


SY7 


trade  which,  from  accidental  circumstances,  is  not  as  de- 
pressed as  our  other  great  staples  ; ’ he  passed  to  the  iron 
trade,  &c.  &c.  He  dilated  on  the  distress,  the  discontent, 
and  suffering  of  the  people.  Of  course  the  Government 
were  to  blame.  He  moved  that  the  ‘ unexampled  ’ dif- 
ficulties of  trade  and  manufactures  were  ^ materially 
increased  by  the  policy  pursued  with  respect  to  our 
foreign  commerce, — that  the  continuance  of  these  difficul- 
ties is  in  a great  degree  owing  to  the  severe  pressure  of 
taxation  under  which  the  country  labours,  and  which 
ought  by  every  practicable  means  to  be  lightened,— that 
the  system  of  foreign  policy  pursued  by  his  Majesty’s 
ministers  has  not  been  such  as  to  obtain  for  the  people  of 
this  country  those  commercial  advantages  which  the  in 
fluence  of  Great  Britain  in  foreign  countries  fairly  entitled 
them  to  expect.’  As  became  a pupil  of  the  Edinburgh 
University,  Mr.  Brougham  was  not  averse  to  political 
economy.  He  was  ready  to  discuss  the  theory  of  rent  or 
the  Corn-laws.  He  made  a speech,  which  he  relates  as 
having  had  a greater  success  than  any  other  which  he 
made  in  Parliament,  in  support  of  Mr.  Calcraft’s  amend- 
ment, to  ^substitute  192,638^.  4s.  9^.  for  385,276^.  9s.  6cZ., 
the  estimate  for  the  household  troops.’  Foreign  policy 
was  a favourite  topic.  Almost  unsupported,  as  he  said 
some  years  after,  he  attacked  the  Holy  Alliance.  Looking 
back  through  the  softening  atmosphere  of  reminiscence, 
he  almost  seems  to  have  a kindness  for  Lord  Castlereagh. 
He  remembers  with  pleasure  the  utter  ^courage  with 
which  he  exposed  himself  unabashed  to  the  most  critical 
audience  in  the  world,  while  incapable  of  uttering  any 
25 


378 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


thing  but  the  meanest  matter,  expressed  in  the  most 
wretched  language  nor  has  he  ‘ forgotten  the  kind  of  pride 
that  mantled  on  the  fronts  of  the  Tory  phalanx,  when,  after 
being  overwhelmed  with  the  fire  of  the  Whig  Opposition, 
or  galled  by  the  fierce  denunciations  of  the  Mountain,  or 
harassed  by  the  splendid  displays  of  Mr.  Canning,  their 
chosen  leader  stood  forth,  and  presenting  the  graces  of  his 
eminently  patrician  figm’e,  flung  open  his  coat,  displayed 
an  azure  ribbon  traversing  a snow-white  chest,  and  de- 
clared ‘his  high  satisfaction  that  he  could  now  meet  the 
charges  against  him  face  to  face,  and  repel  with  indigna- 
tion all  that  his  adversaries  had  been  bold  and  rash 
enough  to  advance.’  But  the  ‘Mr.  Brougham’  of  that 
time  showed  no  admiration ; no  denunciations  were 
stronger  than  his ; no  sarcasm  impinged  more  deeply ; 
if  the  ‘ noble  lord  in  the  blue  ribbon  ’ wished  any  one  out 
of  the  House,  the  ‘ man  from  the  Northern  Circuit  ’ was 
probably  that  one.  Kings  and  emperors  met  with  little 
mercy : and  later  years  have  shown  how  little  was  merited 
by  the  petty  absolutism  and  unthinking  narrowness  of 
that  time.  That  Mr.  Brougham  indissolubly  connected 
the  education  movement  with  his  name  every  body  knows ; 
but  scarcely  any  one  remembers  how  unpopular  that 
movement  was.  Mr.  Windham  had  said,  some  years 
before,  ‘ That  the  diffusion  of  knowledge  was  proper  might 
be  supported  by  many  good  arguments ; but  he  confessed 
he  was  a sceptic  on  that  point.  It  was  said,  Look  at  the 
state  of  the  savages  as  compared  with  ours.  A savage 
among  savages  was  very  well^  and  the  difference  was  only 
perceived  when  he  came  to  be  introduced  into  civilised 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


379 


society.’  ‘ His  friend.  Dr.  Johnson,  was  of  opinion,  that 
it  was  not  right  to  teach  reading  beyond  a certain  extent 
in  society.’  The  same  feeling  continued.  Mr.  Peel,  in 
his  blandest  tones,  attacked  the  education  committee. 
Lord  Stowell,  not  without  sagacity,  observed,  ^ If  you  pro- 
vide a larger  amount  of  highly- cultivated  talent  than 
there  is  a demand  for,  the  surplus  is  very  likely  to  turn 
sour.’  Such  were  the  sentiments  of  some  of  the  best 
scholars  of  that  era ; and  so  went  all  orthodox  sentiment. 
That  education  was  the  same  as  republicanism,  and  re- 
publicanism as  infidelity,  half  the  curates  believed.  But 
in  spite  of  all  this  opposition,  perhaps  with  more  relish 
on  account  of  it,  Mr.  Brougham  was  ever  ready.  He  was 
a kind  of  prophet  of  knowledge.  His  voice  was  heard  in 
the  streets.  He  preached  the  gospel  of  the  alphabet ; he 
sang  the  praises  of  the  primer  all  the  day  long.  ^Practical 
observations,’  ‘ discourses,’  ‘ speeches,’  exist,  terrible  to  al] 
men  now.  To  the  kind  of  education  then  advocated 
there  may  be  objections.  We  may  object  to  the  kind  of 
‘ knowledge  ’ then  most  sought  after ; but  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  those  who  then  laboured  in  its  behalf  must 
be  praised  for  having  inculcated,  in  the  horrid  heat  of 
the  day,  as  a boring  paradox  what  is  now  a boring 
commonplace. 

Our  space  would  fail  us  if  we  were  to  attempt  to  re* 
count  his  labours  on  the  slavery  question,  on  Greorge  IV. 
and  Queen  Caroline,  or  his  hundred  encounters  with  the 
routine  statesmen.  The  series  commenced  at  the  Peace ; 
but  it  continued  for  many  years.  Is  not  its  history  written 
in  the  chronicles  of  Parliament?  You  must  turn  the 


380 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


leaves — no  unpleasant  reading — of  those  old  debates,  and 
observe  how  often  Mr.  Brougham’s  name  occurs,  and  on 
what  cumbrous  subjects,  before  you  can  estimate  the 
frequency  of  his  attacks  and  the  harassing  harshness  of  his 
labour.  One  especial  subject  was  his  more  than  any  other 
man’s — Law  Eeform.  He  had  Romilly  and  Mackintosh  as 
fellow-labourers  in  the  amelioration  of  the  penal  code  ; 
he  had  their  support,  and  that  of  some  others,  in  his  in- 
cessant narrations  of  the  grievances  of  individuals,  and 
denunciations  of  the  unfeeling  unthinkingness  of  our 
Home  administration  ; but  no  man  grappled  so  boldly — 
we  had  almost  said  so  coarsely — with  the  rude  complexities 
of  our  civil  jurisprudence : a rougher  nature,  a more  varied 
knowledge  of  action  than  we  must  expect  of  philanthropists 
were  needed  for  that  task.  The  subject  was  most  difficult 
to  deal  with.  The  English  commerce  and  civilisation  had 
grown  up  in  the  meshes  of  a half-feudal  code,  further  com- 
plicated with  the  curious  narrowness  and  spirit  of  chicane 
which  haunt  every  where  the  law-courts  of  early  times. 
The  technicality  which  produced  the  evil  made  the  remedy 
more  difficult.  There  was  no  general  public  opinion  on 
the  matter  of  reform  ; the  public  felt  the  evil,  but  no  one 
could  judge  of  the  efficacy  of  a remedy,  save  persons 
studious  in  complicated  learning,  who  would  hardly  be 
expected  to  show  how  that  learning  could  be  rendered 
useless, — hardly,  indeed,  to  imagine  a world  in  which  it 
did  not  exist.  The  old  creed,  that  these  ingenious  abuses 
were  the  last  ‘perfection  of  reason,’  still  lingered.  It 
must  give  Lord  Brougham  some  pride  to  reflect  how  many 
of  the  improvements  which  he  was  the  first  to  popularise, 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


381 


if  not  to  suggest,  have  been  adopted, — how  many  old 
abuses  of  detail,  which  he  first  indicated  to  Parliament, 
exist  no  longer, — how  many  more  are  now  admitted  by 
every  body  to  be  abuses,  though  the  mode  of  abolition  is 
contested.  The  speech  on  Law  Keform,  which  he  published 
in  the  collected  edition  of  his  speeches,  is  nearly  a sum- 
mary of  all  that  has  been  done  or  suggested  in  common  or 
civil  law  reform  for  the  last  thirty  years.  The  effect 
which  so  bold  an  attack  on  so  many  things  by  a single 
person  produced  in  that  conservative  time  was  prodigious. 
‘ There  never  was  such  a nuisance  as  the  man  is,’  said  an 
old  lawyer  whom  we  knew ; and  he  expressed  the  feeling 
of  his  profession.  If  we  add,  that  beside  all  these  minor 
reforms  and  secondary  agitations,  Mr.  Brougham  was  a 
bold  advocate  of  Catholic  emancipation  and  parliamentary 
reform — the  largest  heresies  of  that  epoch — we  may  begin 
to  understand  the  sarcasm  of  Mr.  Canning  : ‘ The  honour- 
able and  learned  gentleman  having,  in  the  course  of  his 
parliamentary  life,  supported  or  proposed  almost  every 
species  of  innovation  which  could  be  practised  on  the 
constitution,  it  was  not  very  easy  for  Ministers  to  do  any 
thing  without  seeming  to  borrow  from  him.  Break  away 
in  what  direction  they  would,  whether  to  the  right  or  to 
the  left,  it  was  all  alike.  “ Oh,”  said  the  honourable 
gentleman,  “ I was  there  before  you  ; you  would  not  have 
thought  of  that  if  I had  not  given  you  a hint.”  In  the 
reign  of  Queen  Anne,  there  was  a sage,  and  grave  critic  of 
the  name  of  Dennis,  who  in  his  old  age  got  it  into  his 
head  that  he  had  written  all  the  good  plays  which  were 
acted  at  that  time.  At  last  a tragedy  came  forth  with  a 


382 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


most  imposing  display  of  hail  and  thunder.  At  the  first 
peal,  Dennis  exclaimed  : “ That  is  my  thunder  1 ” So 
with  the  honourable  and  learned  gentleman ; there  was  nc 
noise  astir  for  the  good  of  mankind  in  any  part  of  the 
world,  but  he  instantly  claimed  it  for  his  thunder.’  We 
may  have  wearied  our  readers  with  these  long  references 
to  old  conflicts,  but  it  was  necessary.  We  are  familiar 
with  the  aberrations  of  the  ex-Chan cellor ; we  forget  how 
bold,  how  efficacious,  how  varied  was  the  activity  of 
Henry  Brougham. 

There  are  several  qualities  in  his  genius  which  make 
such  a life  peculiarly  suited  to  him.  The  first  of  these  is 
an  aggressive  impulsive  disposition.  Most  people  may 
admit  that  the  world  goes  ill ; old  abuses  seem  to  exist, 
questionable  details  to  abound.  Hardly  any  one  thinks 
that  any  thing  may  not  be  made  better.  But  how  to  im- 
prove the  world,  to  repair  the  defects,  is  a difficulty. 
Immobility  is  a part  of  man.  A sluggish  conservatism  is 
the  basis  of  our  English  nature.  ‘ Learn^  my  son,’  said 
the  satirist,  ^ to  bear  tranquilly  the  calamities  of  others.’ 
We  easily  learn  it.  Most  men  have  a line  of  life,  and  it 
imposes  certain  duties  which  they  fulfil ; .but  they  cannot 
be  induced  to  start  out  of  that  line.  We  dwell  in  ‘ a firm 
basis  of  content.’  ^ Let  the  mad  world  go  its  own  way,  for  it 
will  go  its  own  way.’  There  is  no  doctrine  of  the  English 
Church  more  agreeable  to  our  instinctive  taste  than  that 
which  forbids  all  works  of  supererogation.  ‘ You  did  a 
thing  without  being  obliged,’  said  an  eminent  Statesman  ; 

• then  that  must  be  wrong.’  We  travel  in  the  track.  Lord 
Brougham  is  the  opposite  of  this.  It  is  not  difficult  to  him 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


383 


to  attack  abuses.  The  more  difficult  thing  for  him  would 
be  to  live  in  a world  without  abuses.  An  intense  ex- 
citability is  in  his  nature.  He  must  ^ go  off.’  He  is 
eager  to  reform  corruption,  and  rushes  out  to  refute  error. 
A tolerant  placidity  is  altogether  denied  to  him. 

And  not  only  is  this  excitability  eager,  it  is  many-sided. 
The  men  who  have  in  general  exerted  themselves  in 
labours  for  others,  have  generally  been  rather  of  a brooding 
nature ; certain  ideas,  views,  and  feelings  have  impressed 
themselves  on  them  in  solitude;  they  come  forth  with 
them  among  the  crowd : but  they  have  no  part  in  its 
diversified  life.  They  are  almost  irritated  by  it.  They 
have  no  conception  except  of  their  cause ; they  are  ab- 
stracted in  one  thought,  pained  with  the  dizziness  of  a 
heated  idea.  There  is  nothing  of  this  in  Brougham.  He 
is  excited  by  what  he  sees.  The  stimulus  is  from  without. 
He  saw  the  technicalities  of  the  Law-courts ; observed  a 
charitable  trustee  misusing  the  charity  moneys;  perceived 
that  Greorge  IV.  oppressed  Queen  Caroline  ; went  to  Old 
Sarum.  He  is  not  absorbed  in  a creed  : he  is  pricked 
by  facts.  Accordingly  his  activity  is  miscellaneous.  The 
votary  of  a doctrine  is  concentrated,  for  the  logical  con- 
sequences of  a doctrine  are  limited.  But  an  open-minded 
man,  who  is  aroused  by  what  he  sees,  quick  at  discerning 
abuses,  ready  to  reform  any  thing  which  he  thinks  goes 
wrong, — will  never  have  done  acting.  The  details  of  life 
are  endless,  and  each  of  them  may  go  wrong  in  a hundred 
ways. 

Another  faculty  of  Brougham  (in  metapnysics  it  k 
perhaps  but  a phase  of  the  same)  is  the  faculty  of  easy 


384 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


anger.  The  supine  placidity  of  civilisation  is  not  favour- 
able to  animosity.  A placid  Conservative  is  perhaps  a 
little  pleased  that  the  world  is  going  a little  ill.  Lord 
Brougham  does  not  feel  this.  Like  an  Englishman  on  the 
Continent,  he  is  ready  to  blow  up  any  one.  He  is  a Jonah 
of  detail ; he  is  angry  at  the  dust  of  life,  and  wroth  with 
the  misfeasances  of  employes.  The  most  reverberating  of 
bastinadoes  is  the  official  mind  basted  by  Brougham.  You 
did  this  wrong  ; why  did  you  omit  that  ? document  C ought 
to  be  on  the  third  file ; paper  T>  is  wrongly  docketed  in 
the  ninth  file.  Eed  tape  will  scarcely  succeed  when  it  is 
questioned  ; you  should  take  it  as  Don  Quixote  did  his 
helmet,  without  examination,  for  a most  excellent  helmet. 
A vehement  industrious  man  proposing  to  untie  papers 
and  not  proposing  to  spare  errors  is  the  terror  of  a 
respectable  administrator. ' ‘ Such  an  unpracticable  man, 
Sir,  interfering  with  the  ojffice^  attacking  private  character, 
messing  in  what  cannot  concern  him.’  These  are  the 
jibes  which  attend  an  irritable  anxiety  for  the  good  of 
others.  They  have  attended  Lord  Brougham  through  life. 
He  has  enough  of  misanthropy  to  be  a philanthropist. 

How  much  of  this  is  temper,  and  how  much  public 
spirit,  it  is  not  for  any  one  to  attempt  to  say.  That  a 
natural  pleasure  in  wrath  is  part  of  his  character,  no  one 
who  has  studied  the  career  of  Brougham  can  doubt.  But 
no  fair  person  can  doubt  either  that  he  has  shown  on 
many  great  occasions — and,  what  is  more,  on  many  petty 
occasions— a rare  zeal  for  the  public  welfare.  He  may  not 
be  capable  of  the  settled  calm  by  which  the  world  is  best 
administered.  There  is  a want  of  consistency  in  his  good- 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


385 


ness,  of  concentration  in  his  action.  The  gusts  of  passion 
pass  over  him  and  he  is  gone  for  a time  you  can  scarcely 
say  where.  But  though  he  is  the  creature  of  impulse,  his 
impulses  are  often  generous  and  noble  ones.  No  one  would 
do  what  he  has  done,  no  one  could  have  the  intense  motive 
power  to  do  what  he  has  done  without  a large  share  of 
diffused  unselfishness.  The  irritation  of  the  most  acute 
excitability  would  not  suffice.  It  is  almost  an  axiom  in 
estimates  of  human  nature,  that  in  its  larger  operations 
all  that  nature  must  concur.  Doubtless  there  is  a thread 
of  calculation  in  the  midst  of  his  impulses  ; no  man  rises 
to  be  lord-chancellor  without  at  least  in  lulls  and  intervals 
of  impulse,  a most  discriminating  and  careful  judgment  of 
men  and  things  and  chances.  But  after  every  set-off  and 
abatement,  and  without  any  softening  of  unamiable  in- 
dications, there  will  yet  remain — and  a long  series  of 
years  will  continue  to  admire  it — an  eager  principle  of 
disinterested  action. 

Lord  Brougham’s  intellectual  powers  were  as  fitted  for 
the  functions  of  a miscellaneous  agitator  as  his  moral 
character.  The  first  of  these,  perhaps,  is  a singular  faculty 
of  conspicuous  labour.  In  general,  the  work  of  agitation 
proceeds  in  this  way : a conspicuous,  fascinating  popular 
orator  is  ever  on  the  surface,  ever  ready  with  appropriate 
argument,  making  motions,  attracting  ijublic  attention  ,* 
beneath  and  out  of  sight  are  innumerable  workers  and 
students,  unfit  for  the  public  eye,  getting  up  the  facts, 
elaborating  conclusions,  supplying  the  conspicuous  orator 
with  the  data  on  which  he  lives.  There  is  a perpetual 
pontroversy,  when  the  narrative  of  tb®  agitation  comes  to 


386 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


be  written,  whether  the  merit  of  what  is  achieved  belongs 
to  the  skilful  advocate  who  makes  a subtle  use  of  what  is 
provided  for  him,  or  the  laborious  inferiors  and  juniors 
who  compose  the  brief  and  set  in  order  the  evidence.  For 
all  that  comes  before  the  public,  Lord  Brougham  has  a 
wonderful  power;  he  can  make  motions,  addresses,  ora- 
tions, when  you  wish  and  on  what  you  wish.  He  is  like  a 
machine  for  moving  amendments.  He  can  keep  at  work 
any  number  of  persons  under  him.  Every  agitation  has  a 
tendency  to  have  an  office;  some  league,  some  society, 
some  body  of  labourers  must  work  regularly  at  its  details. 
Mr.  Brougham  was  able  to  rush  hither  and  thither  through 
a hundred  such  kinds  of  men,  and  gather  up  the  whole 
stock  of  the  most  recent  information,  the  extreme  de- 
cimals of  the  statistics,  and  diffuse  them  immediately 
with  eager  comment  to  a listening  world.  This  may  not, 
indeed  is  not,  the  strictest  and  most  straining  kind  of 
labour ; the  anxious,  wearing,  verifying,  self-imposed 
scrutiny  of  scattered  and  complicated  details  is  a far  more 
exhausting  task  ; it  is  this  which  makes  the  eye  dim  and 
the  face  pale  and  the  mind  heavy.  The  excitement  of  a 
multifarious  agitation  will  carry  the  energies  through 
much ; the  last  touches,  and  it  is  these  which  exhaust, 
need  not  be  put  on  any  one  subject.  Yet,  after  all  de- 
ductions, such  a career  requires  a quantity  far  surpassing 
all  that  most  men  have  of  life  and  verve  and  mind. 

Another  advantage  of  Lord  Brougham,  is  his  extreme 
readiness  ; what  he  can  do,  he  can  do  at  a moment’s  notice. 
He  has  always  had  this  power.  Lord  Holland,  in  his 
Memoirs  referring  to  transactions  which  took  place  many 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


387 


years  ago,  gives  an  illustration  of  it.  ^ The  management 
of  our  press,’  he  is  speaking  of  the  question  of  the  general 
election  of  1807,  ^fell  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Brougham. 
With  that  active  and  able  individual  I had  become  ac- 
quainted through  Mr.  Allen  in  1805.  At  the  formation 
of  Lord  Grenville’s  ministry,  he  had  written,  at  my  sug- 
gestion, a pamphlet  called  the  State  of  the  Nation.  He 
subsequently  accompanied  Lord  Eosslyn  to  Lisbon.  His 
early  connection  with  the  Abolitionists  had  familiarised 
him  with  the  means  of  circulating  political  papers,  and 
given  him  some  weight  with  those  best  qualified  to  co- 
operate in  such  an  undertaking.  His  extensive  knowledge, 
his  extraordinary  readiness,  his  assiduity  and  habits  of 
composition,  enabled  him  to  correct  some  articles,  and  to 
furnish  a prodigious  number  himself.  With  partial  and 
scanty  assistance  from  Mr.  Allen,  myself,  and  one  or  two 
more,  he  in  the  course  of  a few  days  filled  every  book- 
seller’s shop  with  pamphlets, — most  London  newspapers, 
and  all  country  ones  without  exception,  with  paragraphs, — 
and  supplied  a large  portion  of  the  boroughs  throughout 
the  kingdom  with  handbills  adapted  to  the  local  interests 
of  the  candidates,  and  all  tending  to  enforce  the  conduct, 
elucidate  the  measures,  or  expose  the  adversaries  of  the 
Whigs.’ 

Another  power  which  was  early  remarked  of  Brougham, 
and  which  is  as  necessary  as  any  to  an  important  leader  in 
great  movements,  is  a skilful  manipulation  of  men.  Sir 
James  Mackintosh  noted  in  his  Journal  on  January  30, 
1818  : ‘The  address  and  insinuation  of  Brougham  are  so 
great,  that  nothing  but  the  bad  temper  which  he  cannot 


388 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


always  hide  could  hinder  him  from  mastering  everybody 
as  he  does  Eomilly.  He  leads  others  to  his  opinion ; he 
generally  appears  at  first  to  concur  with  theirs,  and  never 
more  than  half  opposes  it  at  once.  This  management  is 
helped  by  an  air  of  easy  frankness  that  would  lay  suspicion 
itself  asleep.  He  will  place  himself  at  the  head  of  an 
opposition  among  whom  he  is  unpopular ; he  will  conquer 
the  House  of  Commons,  who  hate,  but  now  begin  to 
fear  him.’  An  observer  of  faces  would  fancy  he  noted  in 
Lord  Brougham  this  pliant  astuteness  marred  by  ill- 
temper.  It  has  marked  his  career. 

Another  essential  quality  in  multifarious  agitation  is 
an  extreme  versatility.  No  one  can  deny  Lord  Brougham 
this.  An  apparently  close  observer  has  described  him: 
‘ Take  the  routine  of  a day,  for  instance.  In  his  early  life 
he  has  been  known  to  attend,  in  his  place  in  Court,  on 
circuit,  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morning.  After  having 
successfully  pleaded  the  cause  of  his  client,  he  drives  off 
to  the  hustings,  and  delivers,  at  different  places,  eloquent 
and  spirited  speeches  to  the  electors.  He  then  sits  down 
in  the  retirement  of  his  closet  to  pen  an  address  to  the 
Glasgow  students,  perhaps,  or  an  elaborate  article  in  the 
Edinburgh  Review.  The  active  labours  of  the  day  are 
closed  with  preparation  for  the  Court  business  of  the 
following  morning ; and  then,  in  place  of  retiring  to  rest, 
as  ordinary  men  would  after  such  exertions,  he  spends  the 
night  in  abstruse  study,  or  in  social  intercourse  with  some 
friend  from  whom  he  has  been  long  separated.  Yet  he 
would  be  seen,  as  early  as  eight  on  the  following  morning, 
actively  engaged  in  the  Court,  in  defence  of  some  un 


THE  CHARACTEE  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM.  389 

fortunate  object  of  government  persecution;  astonishing 
the  auditory,  and  his  fellow-lawyers  no  less,  with  the 
freshness  and  power  of  his  eloquence.  A fair  contrast  with 
this  history  of  a day,  in  early  life,  would  be  that  of  one  at 
a more  advanced  period ; say  in  the  year  1832.  A watch- 
ful observer  might  see  the  new  Lord  Chancellor  seated  in 
the  Court  over  which  he  presided,  from  an  early  hour  in 
the  morning  until  the  afternoon,  listening  to  the  argu- 
ments of  counsel,  and  mastering  the  points  of  cases  with  a 
grasp  of  mind  that  enabled  him  to  give  those  speedy  and 
unembarrassed  judgments  that  have  so  injured  him  with 
the  profession.  If  he  followed  his  course,  he  would  see 
him,  soon  after  the  opening  of  the  House  of  Lords,  ad- 
dressing their  lordships  on  some  intricate  question  of  law, 
with  an  acuteness  that  drew  down  approbation  even  from 
his  opponents ; or,  on  some  all-engrossing  political  topic, 
casting  firebrands  into  the  camp  of  the  enemy,  and 
awakening  them  from  the  complacent  repose  of  con- 
viction to  the  hot  contests  with  more  active  and 
inquiring  intellects.  Then,  in  an  hour  or  so,  he  might 
follow  him  to  the  Mechanics’  Institution,  and  hear  an 
able  and  stimulating  discourse  on  education,  admirably 
adapted  to  the  peculiar  capacity  of  his  auditors ; and 
towards  ten,  perhaps,  at  a Literary  and  Scientific  Institu- 
tion in  Marylebone,  the  same  Proteus-like  intellect  might 
be  found  expounding  the  intricacies  of  physical  science 
with  a never-tiring  and  elastic  power.  Yet,  during  all 
those  multitudinous  exertions,  time  would  be  found  for 
the  composition  of  a discourse  on  Natural  Theology,  that 
bears  no  marks  of  haste  or  excitement  of  mind,  but  pre* 


390 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


sents  as  calm  a face  as  though  it  had  been  the  laborious 
production  of  a contemplative  philosopher.’  We  may 
differ  in  our  estimate  of  the  quality  of  these  various 
efforts  ; but  no  one  can  deny  to  him  who  was  capable  of 
them  a great  share  in  what  Adam  Smith  mentioned  as 
one  of  the  most  important  facilities  to  the  intellectual 
labourer,  —a  quickness  in  changing  his  hand.’ 

Nor  would  any  of  these  powers  be  sufficient,  without 
that  which  is,  in  some  sense,  the  principle  of  them  all — an 
enterprising  intellect.  In  the  present  day  this  is  among 
the  rarest  gifts.  The  speciality  of  pursuits  is  attended 
with  a timidity  of  mind.  Each  subject  is  given  up  to 
men  who  cultivate  it,  and  it  only ; who  are  familiar  with 
its  niceties,  and  absorbed  in  its  details.  There  is  no  one 
who  dares  to  look  at  the  whole.  ^ I have  taken  all  know- 
ledge to  be  my  province,’  said  Lord  Bacon.  The  notion, 
and  still  more  the  expression,  of  it  seems  ridiculous  now. 
The  survey  of  each  plot  in  the  world  of  knowledge  is  be- 
coming more  complete.  We  shall  have  a plan  of  each 
soon,  on  a seven-inch  scale ; but  we  are  losing  the  pic- 
turesque pictures  of  the  outside  and  surface  of  knowledge 
in  the  survey  of  its  whole.  We  have  the  petty  survey,  as 
we  say,  but  no  chart,  no  globe  of  the  entire  world ; no 
bold  sketch  of  its  obvious  phenomena,  as  they  strike  the 
wayfarer  and  impress  themselves  on  the  imagination. 
The  man  of  the  speciality  cannot  describe  the  large  out- 
lines ; he  is  too  close  upon  the  minutiae ; he  does  not 
know  the  relations  of  other  knowledge,  and  no  one  else 
dares  to  infringe  on  his  province — on  the  ^ study  of  his 
life  ’ — for  fear  cf  committing  errors  in  detail  which  he 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


391 


Alone  knows,  and  which  he  may  expose.  Lord  Brougham 
has  nothing  of  this  cowardice.  He  is  ready  to  give,  in 
their  boldest  and  most  general  form,  the  rough  outlines  of 
knowledge  as  they  strike  the  man  of  the  world,  occupied 
in  its  affairs  and  familiar  with  its  wishes.  He  is  not 
cooped  up  in  a single  topic,  and  he  has  no  dread  of  those 
who  are;  He  may  fall  into  error,  but  he  exhibits  a subject 
as  it  is  seen  by  those  who  know  other  subjects,  by  a man 
who  knows  the  world ; he  at  least  attempts  an  embracing 
conception  of  his  topic,  he  makes  you  feel  its  connection 
with  reality  and  affairs.  He  has  exhibited  this  virtue  at 
all  stages  of  his  career,  but  it  was  most  valuable  in  his 
earlier  time.  There  is  no  requisite  so  important  as  in- 
tellectual courage  in  one  who  seeks  to  improve  all  things 
in  all  ways. 

His  oratory  also  suits  the  character  of  the  hundred- 
subject  agitator  well.  It  is  rough-and-ready.  It  abounds 
in  sarcasm,  in  vituperation,  in  aggression.  It  does  not 
shrink  from  detail.  It  would  batter  any  thing  at  any 
moment.  We  may  think  as  we  will  on  its  merits  as  a 
work  of  art,  but  no  one  can  deny  its  exact  adaptation  to  a 
versatile  and  rushing  agitator — to  a Tribune  of  detail. 

The  deficiencies  of  Brougham’s  character — in  some 
cases  they  seem  but  the  unfavourable  aspect  of  its  ex- 
cellencies— were  also  fitted  for  his  first  career.  The  fi^st 
of  these,  to  say  it  in  a sentence,  is  the  want  of  a thinking 
intellect.  A miscellaneous  agitator  must  be  ready  to 
catch  at  any  thing,  to  attack  every  thing,  to  blame  any 
one.  This  is  not  the  life  for  a mind  of  anxious  delibera- 
tion. The  patient  philosopher,  who  is  cautious  in  his 


392 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


positions,  dubious  of  his  data,  slow  in  his  conclusions, 
must  fail  at  once.  He  would  be  investigating  while  he 
should  attack,  inquiring  while  he  should  speak.  He 
could  not  state  upon  a chance  ; the  moment  of  action 
would  be  gone.  A sanguine  and  speedy  intellect,  ready 
to  acquire  by  its  very  idea,  all  but  excludes  the  examining, 
scrupulous,  hesitating  intellect  which  reflects. 

Nor  would  a man  of  very  sensitive  judgment  endure 
such  a career.  An  agitator  must  err  by  excess ; a 
delicate  nature  errs  by  the  contrary.  There  is  a certain 
coarseness  in  the  abusive  breed.  A Cleon  should  not  feel 
failure.  No  man  has  ever  praised  very  highly  Lord 
Brougham’s  judgment ; but  to  have  exceedingly  improved 
it  would  perhaps  have  impaired  his  earlier  utility.  You 
might  as  fitly  employ  some  delicate  lady  as  a rough-rider, 
as  a man  of  a poising  refining  judgment  in  the  task  of  a 
grievance-stater. 

Harsh  nerves,  too,  are  no  disadvantage.  Perhaps  they 
are  essential.  Very  nice  nerves  would  shrink  from  a 
scattered  and  jangled  life.  Three  days  out  of  six  the 
sensitive  frame  would  be  jarred,  the  agitator  would  be 
useless.  It  is  possible,  indeed,  to  imagine  that  in  a single 
noble  cause  something  that  would  light  up  the  imagina- 
tion, that  would  move  the  inner  soul,  a temperament  the 
most  delicate,  a frame  that  is  most  poetic,  might  well  be 
interested  absorbingly.  A little  of  such  qualities  may  be 
essential.  Tlie  apostle  of  a creed  must  have  the  nature  to 
comprehend  that  creed;  his  fancy  must  take  it  in,  his 
feelings  realise  it,  his  nature  absorb  it.  To  move  the  finer 
nature,  you  need  the  deeper  nature.  Perhaps  even  in  a 


THE  CHARACTER  OP  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


393 


meaner  cause,  in  something  which  should  take  a hold  on 
the  moving  mob,  sway  the  masses,  rule  the  popular  fancy, 
rough  as  the  task  of  the  mob-orator  is,  you  require  the 
delicate  imagination.  One  finds  some  trace  of  it — still 
more  of  what  is  its  natural  accompaniment,  a sweet 
nature — buried  in  the  huge  frame  and  coarse  exterior  of 
O’Connell.  No  unpoetic  heart  could  touch  the  Irish 
people.  Lord  Brougham  is  prose  itself.  He  was  de- 
scribed, many  years  ago,  as  excelling  all  men  in  a 
knowledge  of  the  course  of  exchange.  ‘ He  is,’  continued 
the  satirist,  ‘ apprised  of  the  exact  state  of  our  exports 
and  imports,  and  scarce  a ship  clears  out  its  cargo  at 
Liverpool  or  Hull  but  he  has  the  notice  of  the  bill  of 
lading.’  To  explain  the  grievances  of  men  of  business 
needs  no  poetic  nature.  It  scarcely  needs  the  highest 
powers  of  invective.  There  is  something  nearly  ridiculous 
in  being  the  ^ Mirabeau  of  sums.’ 

There  is  a last  quality,  which  is  difficult  to  describe  in 
the  language  of  books,  but  which  Lord  Brougham  excels 
In,  and  which  has  perhaps  been  of  more  value  to  him  than 
all  his  other  qualities  put  together.  In  the  speech  of 
ordinary  men  it  is  called  ‘devil;’  persons  instructed  in 
the  German  language  call  it  ‘the  daemonic  element.’ 
What  it  is  one  can  hardly  express  in  a single  sentence. 
It  is  most  easily  explained  by  physiognomy.  There  is  a 
glare  in  some  men’s  eyes  which  seem  to  say,  ‘ Beware,  I 
am  dangerous ; noli  me  tangereJ  Lord  Brougham’s  face 
has  this.  A mischievous  excitability  is  the  most  obvious 
expression  of  it.  If  he  were  a horse,  nobody  would  buy 
aim ; with  that  eye  no  one  could  answer  for  his  temper. 

SO 


394 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


Such  men  are  often  not  really  resolute ; but  they  are  not 
pleasant  to  be  near  in  a diflSculty.  They  have  an  ag- 
gressive eagerness  which  is  formidable.  They  would 
kick  against  the  pricks  sooner  than  not  kick  at  all.  A 
little  of  the  demon  is  excellent  for  an  agitator. 

His  peculiar  adaptation  to  his  peculiar  career  raised 
Mr.  Brougham,  in  a few  years,  to  a position  such  as  few 
men  have  ever  obtained  in  England — such  as  no  other 
man  perhaps  has  attained  by  popular  agitation.  When  he 
became  member  for  Yorkshire,  in  1830,  he  was  a power 
in  the  country.  The  cause  which  he  was  advocating  had 
grown  of  itself.  The  power  of  the  middle  classes,  es- 
pecially of  the  commercial  classes,  had  increased.  Lord 
Eldon  was  retiring.  Lord  Sidmouth  had  retired.  What  we 
now  call  liberality  was  coming  into  fashion.  Men  no  longer 
regarded  the  half-feudal  constitution  as  a ‘ form  of 
thought.’  Argument  was  at  least  thought  fair.  And  this 
seems  likely  and  natural.  No  one  can  wonder  that  the 
influence  of  men  of  business  grew  with  the  development 
of  business,  and  that  they  adopted  the  plain,  straightfor- 
ward, cautious  creed,  which  we  now  know  to  be  congenial 
to  them.  It  is  much  more  diflBcult  to  explain  how 
reform  became  a passion.  The  state  of  the  public  mind 
during  the  crisis  of  the  Eeform  Bill  is  one  which  those 
who  cannot  remember  it  cannot  understand.  The  popular 
enthusiasm,  the  intense  excitement,  the  rush  of  converts, 
the  union  of  rectors  and  squires  with  those  against  whom 
they  had  respectively  so  long  preached  and  sworn,  the 
acclamation  for  the  ‘ whole  bill  and  nothing  but  the  bill, 
are  become  utterly  strange.  As  the  first  French  Assembly 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


395 


in  a single  night  abolished  with  public  outcry  the  essential 
abuses  of  the  old  regime^  so  our  fathers  at  once,  and  with 
enthusiasm,  abolished  the  close  boroughs  and  the  old 
representation,  the  lingering  abuses  of  half-feudal  England. 
The  present  Frenchmen  are  said  not  to  comprehend  the  4th 
of  August:  we  can  hardly  understand  the  year  ^32.  An 
apathy  has  fallen  upon  us.  But  we  can  nevertheless,  and 
without  theorising,  comprehend  what  an  advantage  such 
an  enthusiasm  was  to  the  Liberals  of  that  time.  Most 
Whig  ministries  have  been  like  Low-Church  bishops. 
There  is  a feeling  that  the  advocates  of  liberty  ought 
scarcely  to  coerce  ; they  have  ruled,  but  they  seemed  to 
deny  the  succession  by  which  they  ruled  ; they  have  been 
distrusted  by  a vague  and  half-conservative  sentiment. 
In  the  tumult  of  1832  all  such  feelings  were  carried  away. 
Toryism  was  abolished  with  delight. 

Mr.  Brougham  was  among  the  first  to  share  the  ad- 
vantage. There  is  a legend,  that  in  the  first  Whig 
ministry  Lord  Brougham  was  offered  the  post  of  Attorney- 
general,  and  that  he  only  replied  by  disdainfully  tearing 
up  the  letter  containing  the  offer.  Whether  the  anecdote 
be  literally  true  or  not,  we  cannot  say.  The  first  of  the 
modern  Whig  ministries  is  in  the  post-historical  period. 
We  have  not  yet  enough  of  contemporary  evidence  to  be  sure 
of  its  details : years  must  pass  before  the  memoir-writers 
can  accumulate.  But  in  spirit  the  tale  is  doubtless  ac- 
curate. Lord  Grey  did  not  wish  to  make  Mr.  Brougham 
Lord-Chancellor,  and  Mr.  Brougham  refused  any  inferior 
place  as  beneath  his  merits  and  his  influence.  The  first 
Whig  ministry  were,  indeed,  in  a position  of  some  diflSculty. 


396 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


The  notion  that  a successful  Opposition,  as  such,  should 
take  the  reins  of  administration,  has  been  much  derided : 
^ Sir,’  said  a sceptic  on  this  part  of  constitutional  govern- 
ment, would  as  soon  choose  for  a new  coachman  the 
man  who  shied  stones  best  at  my  old  one!’  And,  without 
going  the  length  of  such  critics,  it  must  be  allowed  that 
the  theory  may  produce  odd  results,  when  the  persons 
summoned  by  their  victory  to  assume  office  have  been  for 
many  years  in  opposition.  The  party  cannot  have  acquired 
official  habits  ; the  traditions  of  business  cannot  be  known 
to  them  ; their  long  course  of  opposition  will  have  forced 
into  leadership  men  hardly  fitted  for  placid  government. 
There  is  said  to  have  been  much  of  this  feeling  when 
Lord  Grrey’s  Ministry  were  installed ; it  seemed  as  if  that 
‘ old  favourite  of  the  public,’  Mr.  Buckstone,  were  called 
to  license  plays.  Grave  Englishmen  doubted  the  gravity 
of  the  administration.  To  make  Lord  Brougham  Chan- 
cellor was,  therefore,  particularly  inconvenient.  He  was 
too  mobile  : you  could  not  fancy  him  droning.  He  had 
attacked  Lord  Eldon  during  many  years,  of  course ; but 
did  he  know  law  ? He  was  a most  active  person ; but 
would  he  sit  still  upon  the  woolsack  ? Of  his  inattention 
to  his  profession  men  circulated  idle  tales.  ^ Pity  he 
hadn’t  known  a little  law,  and  then  he  would  have  known 
a little  of  every  thing,’  was  the  remark  of  one  who 
certainly  only  knows  one  thing.  A more  circumstantial 
person  recounted  that,  wlien  Brougham  had  been  a pupil 
of  Sir  Nicholas  Tindal,  in  the  Temple,  an  uncle  of  his, 
having  high  hopes  of  his  ability,  asked  the  latter : ^ I 
hope  my  nephew  is  giving  himself  up,  soul  and  body,  to 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


397 


his  profession  ? ’ ‘ I do  not  know  any  thing,’  replied  the 

distinct  special-pleader,  ‘ as  to  his  soul^  but  his  body  is 
very  seldom  in  my  chambers.’  Putting  aside  with  con- 
tempt this  surface  of  tales,  it  could  not  be  denied  that 
Mr.  Brougham’s  practice  at  the  bar, — large  and  lucrative 
as  it  was — immense  as  was  the  energy  required  to  main- 
tain it  at  the  same  time  with  his  other  labours, — had  yet 
not  shown  him  to  possess  the  finest  discretion,  the  most 
delicate  tact  of  the  advocate.  Mr.  Scarlett  stole  verdicts 
away  from  him.  ‘ He  strikes  hard.  Sir,’  said  an  attorney ; 
‘ but  he  strikes  wrong.’  The  appointment  scarcely 
strengthened  the  ministry  of  the  time.  Mr.  Brougham 
was  a hero;  Lord  Brougham  was  a ^necessity.’  It  was 
like  Mr.  Disraeli  being  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer. 

After  the  lapse  of  years,  and  with  the  actual  facts 
before  us,  it  is  not  difficult  to  see  how  far  these  anti- 
cipations have  been  falsified,  and  how  far  they  have  been 
justified  by  the  result.  All  the  notions  as  to  Lord 
Brougham’s  ignorance  of  law  may  at  once  be  discarded. 
A man  of  his  general  culture  and  vigorous  faculties,  with 
a great  memory  and  much  experience  in  forensic  business, 
is  no  more  likely  to  be  ignorant  of  the  essential  bookwork 
of  law  than  a tailor  to  be  ignorant  of  scissors  and  seams. 
A man  in  business  must  be  brought  in  contact  with  it ; a 
man  of  mind  cannot  help  grasping  it.  No  one  now 
questions  that  Lord  Brougham  was  and  is  a lawyer  of 
adequate  attainments.  But,  at  the  same  time,  the  judg- 
ments which  supply  the  conclusive  proof  of  this — the 
complete  refutation  of  earlier  cavillers — also  would  lead 
us  to  deny  him  the  praise  of  an  absoutely  judicial  intellect 


398 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


Great  judges  may  be  divided  into  two  classes, — judges  foi 
the  parties,  and  judges  for  the  lawyers.  The  first  class  of 
these  are  men  who  always  decide  the  particular  case  before 
them  rightly  ; who  have  a nice  insight  into  all  that  con- 
cerns it,  are  acute  discerners  of  fact,  accurate  weighers  of 
testimony,  just  discriminators  of  argument.  Lord  Lynd- 
hurst  is  perhaps  as  great  a judge  in  this  kind  as  it  is  easy 
to  fancy.  If  a wise  man  had  a good  cause,  he  would 
prefer  its  being  tried  before  Lyndhurst  to  its  being  tried 
before  anyone  else.  For  the  ^parties,’  if  they  were  to  be 
considered  in  litigation,  no  more  would  be  needed.  By 
law-students,  however,  and  for  the  profession,  something 
more  is  desired.  They  like  to  find,  in  a judicial  decision, 
not  only  a correct  adjustment  of  the  particular  dispute  in 
Court,  but  also  an  ample  exposition  of  principles  appli- 
cable to  other  disputes.  The  judge  who  is  peculiarly 
exact  in  detecting  the  precise  peculiarities  of  the  case 
before  him,  will  be  very  apt  to  decide  only  what  is 
essential  to,  absolutely  needed  by,  that  case.  His  delicate 
discrimination  will  see  that  nothing  else  is  necessary ; he 
will  not  bestow  conclusions  on  after-generations ; he  will 
let  posterity  decide  its  own  controversies.  A judge  of 
different  kind  has  a professional  interest  in  what  comes 
before  him  : it  is  in  his  eyes  not  a pitiful  dispute  whether 
A or  B is  entitled  to  a miserable  field,  but  a glorious  op 
portunity  of  deciding  some  legal  controversy  on  which  he 
has  brooded  for  years,  and  on  which  he  has  a ready-made 
conclusion.  Accordingly,  his  judgments  are  in  the  nature 
of  essays.  They  are,  in  one  sense,  applicable  to  the 
matter  in  hand — they  decide  it  correctly ; but  they  go  so 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


399 


much  into  the  antecedents  of  the  controversy — give  so 
much  of  principle — that  the  particular  facts  seem  a little 
lost:  the  general  doctrine  fills  the  attention.  No  one 
can  read  a judgment  of  the  late  Lord  Cottenham  without 
feeling  that  it  fixed  the  law  on  the  matter  in  hand  upon  a 
defined  basis  for  future  years;  very  likely  he  finds  an 
authority  for  the  case  which  has  occurred  in  his  practice : 
he  does  not  stay  to  inquire  whether  the  litigants  appre- 
ciated the  learning ; perhaps  they  did  not — possibly  they 
would  have  preferred  that  a more  exclusive  prominence 
should  be  given  to  themselves.  Now  Lord  Brougham  has 
neither  of  these  qualities  ; his  intellect  wants  the  piercing 
precision  which  distinguishes  the  judge — the  unerring 
judge — of  the  case  then  present;  and, though  competently 
learned,  he  has  never  been  absorbed  in  his  profession  as  a 
judge  of  ‘ principle  ’ almost  always  must  be.  A man 
cannot  provide  a dogma  suiting  all  the  cases  of  the  past, 
and  deciding  all  the  cases  for  the  future,  without  years  of 
patient  reflection.  His  mind  must  be  stored  with  doc- 
trines. No  one  can  fancy  this  of  Lord  Brougham.  He  is 
not  to  be  thought  of  as  giving  still  attention  to  technical 
tenets,  years  of  brooding  consideration  to  an  abstract 
jurisprudence.  Accordingly,  though  an  adequate,  and,  in 
his  time— for  his  speed  cleared  off  arrears — a most  useful 
judge,  he  cannot  be  said  to  attain  the  flrst  rank  in  the 
judicial  scale ; and  such  we  believe  is  the  estimation  of 
the  world. 

Of  the  political  duties  of  the  Chancellor,  and  Lord 
Brougham’s  performance  of  them,  it  is  not  easy  to  speak. 
Many  of  them  are  necessarily  secret ; and  the  history  of 


400 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


those  times  cannot  yet  be  written.  That  he  showed  won- 
derful energy,  zeal,  and  power,  no  one  can  doubt;  nor 
that  the  essential  defects  of  his  character  soon  showed  him 
but  little  qualified  for  an  administrator.  In  the  year 
1802,  Francis  Horner  anticipated,  that  if  ^ an  active 
career  were  opened  to  Brougham,  he  would  show  a want 
of  prudence  and  moderation;’  and  it  is  curious  to  read,  as 
a commentary  on  it,  what  the  Duke  of  Wellington  wrote 
to  Sir  E.  Peel,  on  November  15,  1835:  ^ His  Majesty 
mentioned  that  Lord  Brougham ' had  threatened  he  would 
not  put  the  great  seal  to  a Commission  to  prorogue  the 
Parliament ; ’ and  afterwards  correcting  himself : ^ It  ap- 
pears that  Lord  Brougham  did  not  make  the  threat  that 
he  would  not  prorogue  the  Parliament,  but  that  Lord 
Melbourne  said  he  was  in  such  a state  of  excitement  that 
he  might  take  that  course.’  We  must  wait  for  Lord 
Brougham’s  memoirs  before  we  know  the  exact  history  of 
that  time ; but  all  the  glimpses  we  get  of  it  show  the 
same  picture  of  wildness  and  eccentricity. 

The  times — the  most  nearly  revolutionary  times  which 
England  has  long  seen — were  indeed  likely  to  try  an  ex- 
citable temperament  to  the  utmost ; but  at  the  same  time 
they  afforded  scope  to  a brilliant  manager  of  men,  which 
only  such  critical  momentary  conjunctions  can  do.  Mr, 
Roebuck  gives  a curious  instance  of  this : 

‘ The  necessity  of  a dissolution  had  long  been  forseen, 
and  decided  on  by  the  ministers ; but  the  king  had  not 

* The  editors  of  Sir  K.  Peel’s  Memoirs  have  left  this  name  in  blank; 
but  if  they  had  wished  it  not  to  be  known,  they  should  have  supprosa&i  tbs 
passage.  Everybody  knows  who  held  the  great  seal  at  that  time. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


401 


yet  been  persuaded  to  consent  to  so  bold  a measure ; and 
now  the  two  chiefs  of  the  administration  were  about  to 
intrude  themselves  into  the  royal  closet,  not  only  to  advise 
and  ask  for  a dissolution,  but  to  request  the  king  on  the 
sudden — on  this  very  day,  and  within  a few  hours — to  go 
down  and  put  an  end  to  his  parliament  in  the  midst  of  the 
session,  and  with  all  the  ordinary  business  of  the  session 
yet  unfinished.  The  bolder  mind  of  the  chancellor  took 
the  lead,  and  Lord  Grey  anxiously  solicited  him  to 
manage  the  king  on  the  occasion.  So  soon  as  they  were 
admitted,  the  chancellor,  with  some  care  and  circumlo- 
cution, propounded  to  the  king  the  object  of  the  interview 
they  had  sought.  The  startled  monarch  no  sooner  under- 
stood the  drift  of  the  chancellor’s  somewhat  periphrastic 
statement,  than  he  exclaimed  in  wonder  and  amazement 
against  the  very  idea  of  such  a proceeding.  “ How  is  it 
possible,  my  lords,  that  I can  after  this  fashion  repay  the 
kindness  of  parliament  to  the  queen  and  myself?  They 
have  just  granted  me  a most  liberal  civil-list,  and  to  the 
queen  a splendid  annuity  in  case  she  survives  me.”  The 
chancellor  confessed  that  they  had,  as  regarded  his  Ma- 
jesty, been  a liberal  and  wise  parliament,  but  said  that 
nevertheless  their  further  existence  was  incompatible  with 
the  peace  and  safety  of  the  kingdom.  Both  he  and  Lord 
Grey  then  strenuously  insisted  upon  the  absolute  necessity 
of  their  request,  and  gave  his  majesty  to  understand,  that 
this  advice  was  by  his  ministers  unanimously  resolved  on ; 
and  that  they  felt  themselves  unable  to  conduct  the 
afiairs  of  the  country  in  the  present  condition  of  the 
parliament.  This  last  statement  made  the  king  feel  that 


402 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


a general  resignation  would  be  the  consequence  of  a 
turther  refusal ; of  this,  in  spite  of  his  secret  wishes,  he 
was  at  the  moment  really  afraid,  and  therefore  he,  by 
employing  petty  excuses,  and  suggesting  small  and  tem- 
porary difficulties,  soon  began  to  show  that  he  was  about 
to  yield.  But,  my  lords,  nothing  is  prepared ; the  great 
officers  of  state  are  not  summoned.”  Pardon  me,  sir,” 
said  the  chancellor,  bowing  with  profound  apparent  hu- 
mility, we  have  taken  the  great  liberty  of  giving  them  to 
understand  that  your  Majesty  commanded  their  attendance 
at  the  proper  hour.”  But,  my  lords,  the  crown,  and  the 
robes,  and  other  things  needed,  are  not  prepared.” 
‘‘Again  I most  humbly  entreat  your  majesty’s  pardon  for 
my  boldness,”  said  the  chancellor  ; “ they  are  all  prepared 
and  ready, — the  proper  officers  being  desired  to  attend  in 
proper  form  and  time.”  “ But,  my  lords,”  said  the  king, 
reiterating  the  form  in  which  he  put  his  objection,  “you 
know  the  thing  is  wholly  impossible  ; the  guards,  the 
troops,  have  had  no  orders,  and  cannot  be  ready  in  time.” 
This  objection  was  in  reality  the  most  formidable  one. 
The  orders  to  the  troops  on  such  occasions  emanate  always 
directly  from  the  king,  and  no  person  but  the  king  can  in 
truth  command  them  for  such  service ; and  as  the  prime 
minister  and  daring  chancellor  well  knew  the  nature  of 
royal  susceptibility  on  such  matters ; they  were  in  no 
slight  degree  doubtful  and  anxious  as  to  the  result.  The 
chancellor  therefore,  with  some  real  hesitation,  began 
again  as  before,  Pardon  me,  sir,  we  know  how  bold  the 
step  is  that,  presuming  on  your  great  goodness,  and  your 
anxious  desire  for  the  safetv  of  your  kingdom  and  hap* 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


403 


piness  of  your  people,  we  have  presumed  to  take,  I have 
given  orders,  and  the  troops  are  ready.”  The  king  started 
in  serious  anger,  flamed  red  in  the  face,  and  burst  forth 
with,  What,  my  lords,  have  you  dared  to  act  thus  ? 
Such  a thing  was  never  heard  of.  You,  my  lord  chancellor, 
ought  to  know  that  such  an  act  is  treason,  high  treason, 
my  lord.”  Yes,  sir,”  said  the  chancellor,  “ I do  know 
it ; and  nothing  but  my  thorough  knowledge  of  your  Ma« 
jesty’s  goodness,  of  your  paternal  anxiety  for  the  good  of 
your  people,  and  my  own  solemn  belief  that  the  safety  of 
the  state  depends  upon  this  day’s  proceedings,  could  have 
emboldened  me  to  the  performance  of  so  unusual,  and,  in 
ordinary  circumstances,  so  improper  a proceeding.  In  all 
humility  I submit  myself  to  your  Majesty,  and  am  ready 
in  my  own  person  to  bear  all  the  blame,  and  receive  all 
the  punishment  which  your  Majesty  may  deem  needful ; 
but  I again  entreat  your  Majesty  to  listen  to  us  and  to 
follow  our  counsel,  and  as  you  value  the  security  of  your 
crown  and  the  peace  of  your  realms,  to  yield  to  our  most 
earnest  solicitations.”  After  some  further  expostulations 
by  both  his  ministers,  the  king  cooled  down  and  consented. 
Having  consented,  he  became  anxious  that  every  thing 
should  be  done  in  the  proper  manner,  and  gave  minute 
directions  respecting  the  ceremonial.  The  speech  to  be 
.spoken  by  him  at  the  prorogation  was  ready  prepared  and 
m the  chancellor’s  pocket.  To  this  he  agreed,  desired 
.^hat  every  body  might  punctually  attend,  and  dismissed 
his  ministers  for  the  moment  with  something  between  a 
menace  and  a joke  upon  the  audacity  of  their  proceeding.’ ‘ 

• More  recent  information  seems  to  show  that  the  details  of  this  pictnrs 

^ot  to  relied  upon ; but  it  proves  the  spirit  of  the  times, 


404 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


With  the  fall  of  Lord  Melbourne’s  first  administration 
terminated  Lord  Brougham’s  administrative  career.  Ab 
every  one  knows,  on  the  defeat  of  Sir  Eohert  Peel  and  the 
subsequent  return  of  the  Whigs  to  power,  he  was  not 
invited  to  resume  office.  Since  that  time, — for  now  more 
than  twenty  years, — he  has  had  to  lead  the  life,  in  general 
the  most  trying  to  political  reputation,  perhaps  to  real 
character,  and  more  than  any  other  alien  to  the  character 
of  his  mind  and  the  tendencies  of  his  nature.  We  have 
had  many  recent  instances  how  difficult  it  is  to  give  what 
is  variously  termed  an  ^ independent  support,’  and  a 
‘ friendly  opposition,’  to  a government  of  which  you  ap- 
prove the  general  tendencies,  but  are  inclined  to  criticise 
the  particular  measures.  The  Peelities  and  Lord  John 
Eussell  have  for  several  years  been  in  general  in  this 
position,  and  generally  with  a want  of  popular  sympathy. 
As  they  agree  with  the  Grovernment  in  principle,  they 
cannot  take,  by  way  of  objection,  what  the  country  con- 
siders broad  points ; their  suggestions  of  detail  seem  petty 
and  trivial  to  others, — the  public  hardly  think  of  such 
things ; but  men  who  have  long  considered  a subject,  who 
have  definite  ideas  and  organised  plans,  can  scarcely  help 
feeling  an  eager  interest  in  the  smallest  minutiae  of  the 
mode  of  dealing  with  it : sometimes  they  discern  a real 
importance  undiscerned  by  those  less  attentive;  more 
commonly,  perhaps,  they  fancy  there  is  something  pe- 
culiarly felicitous  in  contrivances  settled  by  themselves 
and  congenial  to  their  habits  or  their  notions.  Lord 
Brougham  was  in  a position  to  feel  this  peculiarly.  The 
various  ideas  which  he  had  struggled  for  in  earlier  life 


THE  CHARACTER  OP  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


405 


were  successful  one  by  one;  the  hundred  reforms  he 
suggested  were  carried ; the  hundred  abuses  he  had 
denounced  were  abolished.  The  world  which  was^  was 
changed  to  the  world  which  is ; but  it  was  not  changed  by 
him.  That  he  should  have  been  favourably  disposed  to 
the  existing  liberal  administrations  was  not  likely  ; the 
separation  was  too  recent,  perhaps  too  abrupt.  An  eager 
and  excitable  disposition  is  little  likely  to  excel  in  the 
measured  sentences,  the  chosen  moments,  the  polished 
calm  of  the  frondeur.  Accordingly,  the  life  of  Brougham 
for  many  years  has  not  been  favourable  to  his  fame.  On 
particular  occasions,  as  on  the  abolition  of  Negro  appren- 
ticeship, he  might  attain  something  of  his  former  power. 
But,  in  general,  his  position  has  been  that  of  the  agitator 
whose  measure  is  being  substantially  carried,  yet  with 
differences  of  detail  aggravating  to  his  temper  and  annoy- 
ing to  his  imagination.  Mr.  Cobden  described  Sir  Eobert 
Peel’s  mode  of  repealing  the  Corn-laws  with  the  microscopic 
sliding-scale  for  three  years,  as  seventeen-and-sixpence  on 
the  demand  of  the  Anti-corn-law  League,  and  good  security 
for  the  other  half-crown.  Yet  excitable  men  at  that  very 
moment  clamoured  for  the  last  half-crown ; they  could 
not  bear  the  modification,  the  minute  difference  from  that 
on  which  they  had  set  their  hearts.  We  must  remember 
this  in  relation  to  what  is  now  most  familiar  to  us  in  the 
life  of  Lord  Brougham.  To  a man  so  active,  to  be  out  of 

action  is  a pain  which  few  can  appreciate ; that  other 

♦ 

men  should  enter  into  your  labours  is  not  pleasant ; that 
they  should  be  Canningites  does  not  make  it  any  better, 
We  have  witnessed  many  escapades  of  Lord  Brougham , 


406 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


we  perhaps  hardly  know  his  temptations  and  his  vex* 
ations. 

Such  is  the  bare  outline  of  the  career  of  Lord 
Brougham.  A life  of  early,  broken,  various  agitation  ; 
a short  interval  of  ordinary  administration, — occurring, 
however,  at  a time  singularly  extraordinary , a long  old 
age  secluded  from  the  actual  conduct  of  affairs,  and 
driven  to  distinguish  itself  by  miscellaneous  objection  and 
diversified  sarcasm.  Singular  stories  of  eccentricity  and 
excitement,  even  of  something  more  than  either  of  these, 
darken  these  latter  years.  On  these  we  must  not  dwell. 
There  are  many  aspects  of  his  varied  character,  a few  of 
which  we  should  notice  by  themselves. 

The  most  connected  with  his  political  life  is  his  career 
as  a Law  reformer.  We  have  spoken  of  his  early  labours 
on  this  subject;  we  have  said,  that  few  men  who  have 
devoted  themselves  to  nothing  else  have  exposed  so  many 
abuses,  propounded  so  many  remedies ; that  one  of  his 
early  motions  is  a schedule  of  half,  and  much  more  than 
half,  that  has  been,  or  will  be,  done  upon  a large  portion 
of  the  subject.  But  here  praise  must  end.  The  com- 
pleted, elaborated  reforms  by  which  Lord  Brougham  will 
be  known  to  posterity  are  few,  are  nothing  in  comparison 
with  his  power,  his  industry,  and  his  opportunities.  There 
is  nothing,  perhaps,  for  which  he  is  so  ill  qualified.  The 
bold  vehement  man  who  exposes  an  abuse  has  rarely  the 
skilful,  painful,  dissecting  power  which  expunges  it. 
Lord  Brougham  once  made  a speech  on  conveyancing 
‘I  should  not,’  said,  on  the  next  day,  an  eminent  professor 
of  that  art,  ‘ like  him  to  draw  a deed  relating  to  my  pro- 
perty.’ A Law  reformer,  in  order  that  his  work  may  be 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


407 


perfect,  requires  the  conveyancing  abilities.  He  must  be 
able  to  bear  in  mind  the  whole  topic, — to  draw  out  what 
is  necessary  of  it  on  paper, — to  see  what  is  necessary, — to 
discriminate  the  rights  of  individuals, — to  distinguish, 
with  even  metaphysical  nicety,  the  advantage  he  would 
keep  from  the  abuse  he  would  destroy.  He  must  elabo- 
rate enacting  clauses  which  will  work  in  the  complicated 
future,  repealing  clauses  which  will  not  interfere  with  the 
complicated  machinery  of  the  past.  His  mind  must  be 
the  mind  of  a codifier.  A rushing  man,  like  Lord 
Brougham,  must  not  hope  to  have  this.  A still  and 
patient  man,  in  quiet  chambers,  apt  in  niceties,  anxious  by 
temperament,  precise  in  habit,  putting  the  last  extreme  of 
perfection  on  whatever  he  may  attempt,  is  the  man  for  the 
employment.  You  must  not  expect  this  quiet  precision 
from  an  agitator.  There  is  the  same  difference  as  that 
between  the  striking  pugilist  and  the  delicate  amputating 
operator. 

The  same  want  of  repose  has  impaired  his  excellence 
in  a pursuit  to  which,  at  first  sight,  it  seems  much  less 
needful — the  art  of  oratory.  We  are  apt  to  forget  that 
oratory  is  an  imaginative  art.  From  our  habits  of  busi- 
ness, the  name  of  rhetoric  has  fallen  into  disrepute : our 
greatest  artists  strive  anxiously  to  conceal  their  perfection 
\ii  it;  they  wish  their  address  in  statement  to  be  such 
that  the  effect  seems  to  be  produced  by  that  which  is 
stated,  and  not  by  the  manner  in  which  it  is  stated.  But 
not  the  less  on  that  account  is  there  a real  exercise  of  the 
imagination  in  conceiving  of  the  events  of  a long  history, 
in  putting  them  forward  in  skilful  narration,  each  fact 


408 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


seeming  by  nature  to  fall  into  its  place,  all  the  details 
appearing  exactly  where  they  should, — a group,  to  borrow 
a metaphor  from  another  art,  collecting  itself  from  strag* 
gling  and  desultory  materials.  Still  more  evidently  is  the 
imagination  requisite  in  expressing  deep  emotions,  even 
common  emotions,  or  in  describing  noble  objects.  Now, 
it  seems  to  be  a law  of  the  imagination  that  it  only  works 
in  a mind  of  stillness.  The  noise  and  crush  of  life  jar  it. 
‘ No  man,’  it  has  been  said,  ‘ can  say,  I ivill  compose 
poetry ; ’ he  must  wait  until — from  a brooding,  half- 
desultory  inaction — poetry  may  arise,  like  a gentle  mist, 
delicately  and  of  itself. 

I waited  for  the  train  at  Coventry ; 

I hung  with  grooms  and  porters  on  the  bridge 

To  watch  the  three  tall  spires ; and  there  I shaped 

The  city’s  legend  into  this. 

Lord  Brougham  would  not  have  waited  so.  He  would 
have  rushed  up  into  the  town ; he  would  have  suggested 
an  improvement,  talked  the  science  of  the  bridge,  explained 
its  history  to  the  natives.  The  quiet  race  would  think 
twenty  people  had  been  there.  And  of  course,  in  some 
ways  this  is  admirable ; such  life  and  force  are  rare ; even 
the  ^ grooms  and  porters  ’ would  not  be  insensible  to  such 
an  aggressive  intelligence, — so  much  knocking  mind. 
But  in  the  mean  time  no  lightly-touched  picture  of  old 
story  would  have  arisen  on  his  imagination  The  city’s 
legend  would  have  been  thrust  out : the  ‘ fairy  frostwork  ’ 
of  the  fancy  would  have  been  struck  away : there  would  be 
talk  on  the  schooling  of  the  porter’s  eldest  boy.  The 
rarity  of  great  political  oratory  arises  in  a great  measure 


THE  CHARACTER  OE  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


409 


from  tills  circumstance.  Only  those  engaged  in  the  jar  of 
life  have  the  material  for  it ; only  those  withdrawn  into  a 
brooding  imagination  have  the  faculty  for  it.  M.  Lamar- 
tine has  drawn  a striking  picture  of  one  who  had  the 
opportunity  of  action  and  the  dangerous  faculty  of  leisure : 
^Vergniaud  s’enivrait  dans  cette  vie  d’artiste,  de  musique, 
de  declamation  et  de  plaisirs ; il  se  pressait  de  jouir  de  sa 
jeunesse,  comme  s’il  eut  le  pressentiment  qu’elle  serait 
sitot  cueillie.  Ses  habitudes  etaient  meditatives  et  pares- 
seuses.  II  se  levait  au  milieu  du  jour  ; il  ecrivait  peu  et 
sui  des  feuilles  eparses ; il  appuyait  le  papier  sur  sea 
genoux  comme  un  homme  presse  qui  se  dispute  le  temps ; 
il  composait  ses  discours  lentement  dans  ses  reveries  et  les 
retenait  a I’aide  de  notes  dans  sa  memoire ; il  polissait  son 
eloquence  a loisir,  comme  le  soldat  polit  son  arme  au 
repos.’  This  is  not  the  picture  of  one  who  is  to  attain 
eminence  in  stirring  and  combative  times:  harsher  men 
prevailed;  a mournful  fate  swallowed  up  his  delicate 
fancies.  He  died,  because  he  was  idle ; but  he  was  great, 
because  he  was  idle.  Idleness  with  such  minds  is  only 
the  name  for  the  passive  enjoyment  of  a just-moving 
imagination. 

We  should  only  weary  our  readers  with  a repetition  of 
what  has  been  said  a hundred  times  already,  if  we  tried  to 
explain  that  Lord  Brougham  has  nothing  of  this.  His 
merit  is,  that  he  was  never  idle  in  his  life.  He  must  not 
complain  if  he  has  the  disadvantage  of  it  also.  That  he 
was  a most  effective  speaker  in  his  great  time,  is  of  course 
undoubted  His  power  of  sarcasm,  his  amazing  readiness, 
his  energetic  vigour  of  language,  made  him,  if  not  a very 
27 


410 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


persuasive,  at  least  a most  formidable  orator.  Ilis  endlesc 
animation  must  tell  even  to  excess  upon  his  audience. 
But  he  has  not  acted  wisely  for  his  fame  in  publishing  his 
speeches.  They  have  the  most  unpardonable  of  all  faults, 
— the  fault  of  dullness.  It  is  scarcely  possible  to  read 
them.  Doubtless,  at  the  time  their  influence  was  con- 
siderable ; they  may  even  have  been  pleasant,  as  you  like 
to  watch  the  play  of  a vicious  horse ; but  now,  removed 
from  the  hearing  of  the  speaker’s  voice, — out  of  the  way 
of  the  motions  of  his  face  and  the  glare  of  his  eye, — even 
their  evil-speaking  loses  its  attractiveness.  The  sarcasm 
seems  blunt, — the  denunciation  heavy.  They  are  crowded 
with  a detail  which  may  have  been,  though  acute  observers 
say  it  was  not,  attractive  at  the  time,  but  which  no  one 
can  endure  now.  Not  only  do  you  feel  that  you  are 
bored,  but  you  are  not  sure  that  you  are  instructed.  An 
agitator’s  detail  is  scarcely  to  be  trusted.  His  facts  may 
be  right,  but  you  must  turn  historian  in  order  to  test 
them ; you  must  lead  a life  of  state-papers  and  old  letters 
to  know  if  they  are  true.  It  is  perhaps  possible  for  the 
imagination  of  man  to  give  an  interest  to  any  considerable 
action  of  human  life.  A firmly-drawing  hand  may  con- 
duct us  through  the  narration, — an  enhancing  touch 
enliven  the  details;  but  to  achieve  this  with  contested 
facts  in  a combative  life  is  among  the  rarest  operations  of 
a rare  power.  The  imagination  has  few  tasks  so  difiicult, 
To  Lord  Brougham,  least  of  all,  has  it  been  nossible  to 
attract  men  by  the  business  detail  and  cumbrous  aggres- 
sions of  the  last  age.  His  tone  is  too  harsh.  He  hat 
shattered  his  contemporaries,  but  he  will  not  chaiic 
posterity. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


411 


Lord  Brougham  has  wished  to  be  known  not  only  as 
an  orator  but  as  a writer  on  oratory.  He  has  written  a 
* Discourse  ’ on  Ancient  Oratory,  recommending,  and  very 
deservedly,  its  study  to  those  who  would  now  excel  in  the 
art,  and  there  is  no  denying  that  he  has  rivalled  the 
great  Greek  orator ; at  least  in  one  of  his  characteristic 
excellencies.  There  is  no  more  manly  book  in  the  world 
than  Brougham’s  Speeches,  he  always  ^ calls  a spade  a 
spade,’  the  rough  energy  strikes ; we  have  none  of  the 
tawdry  metaphor,  or  half-real  finery  of  the  inferior 
orators,  there  is  not  a simile  which  a man  of  sense  should 
not  own.  Nevertheless,  we  are  inclined  to  question 
whether  his  studies  on  the  ancient  oratory,  especially  on 
the  great  public  orations  of  Demosthenes,  have  been 
entirely  beneficial  to  him.  These  masterly  productions 
were,  as  every  one  knows,  the  eager  expression  of  an 
intense  mind  on  questions  of  the  best  interest ; they  have 
accordingly  the  character  of  vehemence.  Speaking  on 
subjects  which  he  thought  involved  the  very  existence  of 
his  country,  he  could  not  be  expected  to  speak  very 
temperately ; he  did  not,  and  could  not  admit,  that  there 
was  fair  ground  for  difference  of  opinion ; that  an  equally 
patriotic  person,  after  proper  consideration,  could  by 
possibility  arrive  at  an  opposite  conclusion.  The  circum- 
stances of  the  parliamentary  orator  in  this  country  are 
quite  different;  a man  cannot  discuss  the  dowry  of  the 
Princess  Royal,  the  conditions  of  the  Bank  Charter,  as  if 
they  were  questions  of  existence — all  questions  arising 
now  present  masses  of  fact,  antecedents  in  blue-books, 
tabulated  statistics,  on  which  it  is  impossible  that  there 
should  not  be  a necessity  for  an  elaborate  inquiry — that 


412 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


there  should  not  be  discrepancy  of  judgment  after  that 
inquiry.  The  Demosthenic  vehemence  is  out  of  place. 
The  calm  didactic  exposition,  almost  approaching  to  that 
of  the  lecturer,  is  more  efficacious  than  the  intense  appeal 
of  an  eager  orator.  That  ^ Counsellor  Broom  was  all  in  a 
fume,’  is  a line  in  one  of  the  best  ludicrous  poems  of  a 
time  rather  fertile  in  such  things ; on  points  of  detail  it 
is  ridiculous  to  be  in  a passion  ; on  matters  of  business  it 
is  unpersuasive  to  be  enthusiastic;  even  on  topics  less 
technical,  the  Greek  oratory  is  scarcely  a model  to  be 
imitated  precisely.  A certain  nonchalant  ease  pervades 
our  modern  world— we  affect  an  indifference  we  scarcely 
feel ; our  talk  is  light,  almost  to  affectation ; our  best 
writing  is  the  same;  we  suggest  rather  than  elaborate, 
hint  rather  than  declaim.  The  spirit  of  the  ancient  world 
vas  very  different — the  tendency  of  its  conversation  pro- 
bably was,  to  a rhetorical  formality,  an  haranguing  energy; 
certainly  it  is  the  tendency  of  its  written  style.  ‘With 
every  allowance,’  says  Colonel  Mure,  ‘for  the  peculiar 
genius  of  the  age  in  which  the  masterpieces  of  Attic  prose 
were  produced, — a consideration  which  must  always  have 
a certain  weight  in  literary  judgments, — still,  the  im- 
partial modern  critic  cannot  but  discern  in  this  pervading 
rhetorical  tone  a defect,  perhaps  the  only  serious  defect, 

in  the  classical  Greek  style It  certainly  is 

not  natural  for  the  historian  or  the  popular  essayist  to 
address  his  readers  in  the  same  tone  in  which  the  defender 
of  a client,  or  the  denouncer  of  a political  opponent, 
addresses  a public  assembly.’  So  great  a change  in  the 
geneial  world,  in  the  audience  to  be  spoken  to,  requires  a 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


413 


change  in  the  speaker.  The  light  touch  of  Lord  Pal- 
merston is  more  effective  than  the  most  elaborated 
sentences  of  a formal  rhetorician.  Of  old,  when  con- 
versation and  writing  were  half  oratorical,  oratory  might 
be  very  oratorical ; now  that  conversation  is  very  conver- 
sational, oratory  must  be  a little  conversational.  In  real 
life,  Lord  Brougham  has  too  much  of  the  orator’s  tact  not 
to  be  half  aware  of  this  ; but  his  teaching  forgets  it. 

That  Lord  Brougham  should  have  adopted  a theory 
enjoining  vehemence  in  oratory,  is  an  instance  to  be  cited 
by  those  who  hold  that  a man’s  creed  is  a justification  for 
his  inclinations.  He  is  by  nature  over-vehement,  and 
what  is  worse,  it  is  not  vehemence  of  the  best  kind;  there 
is  something  of  a scream  about  it.  People  rather  laughed  at 
his  kneeling  to  beseech  the  peers.  No  one  quite  feels  there 
is  real  feeling  in  what  he  reads  and  hears,  it  seems  like  a 
machine  going.  Lord  Cockburn  has  an  odd  anecdote4 
An  old  judge,  who  loved  dawdling,  disliked  the  ^ dis- 
composing qualities  ’ of  Brougham.  His  revenge  consisted 
in  sneering  at  Brougham’s  eloquence,  by  calling  it  or  him 
the  Harangue,  ^ Well,  gentlemen,  what  did  the  Harangue 
say  next  ? Why  it  said  this  (misstating  it) ; but  here, 
gentlemen,  the  Harangue  was  wrong  and  not  intelligible.’ 
We  have  some  feeling  for  the  old  judge.  If  you  take  a 
speech  of  Brougham,  and  read  it  apart  from  his  voice, 
you  have  half  a notion  that  it  is  a gong  going,  eloquence 
by  machinery,  an  incessant  talking  thing. 

It  is  needless  to  point  out  how  completely  an  excitable 
ungenial  nature,  such  as  we  have  so  much  spoken  of, 
incapacitates  Lord  Brougham  for  abstract  philos'^phy. 


414 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


His  works  on  that  subject  are  suflBciently  numerous,  but 
we  are  not  aware  that  even  his  most  ardent  admirers  have 
considered  them  as  works  of  really  the  first  class ; it 
would  not  be  difficult  to  extract  from  the  Political 
Philosophy^  which  is  probably  the  best  of  them,  singular 
instances  of  inconsistency  and  of  confusion.  The  error  was 
in  his  writing  them  : he  who  runs  may  read^  but  it  does 
not  seem  likely  he  will  think.  The  brooding  disposition, 
and  the  still  investigating  intellect,  are  necessary  for 
consecutive  reasonings  on  delicate  philosophy. 

The  same  qualities,  however,  fit  a man  for  the  ac- 
quisition of  general  information.  A man  who  is  always 
rushing  into  the  street  will  become  familiar  with  the 
street.  One  who  is  for  ever  changing  from  subject  to 
subject  will  not  become  painfully  acquainted  with  any 
one,  but  he  will  know  the  outsides  of  them  all,  and  tLe 
road  from  each  to  the  other.  Accordingly,  all  the  de- 
scriptions of  Lord  Brougham,  even  in  his  earliest  career, 
speak  of  his  immense  information.  Mr.  Wilber  force,  in 
perhaps  the  earliest  printed  notice  of  him,  recommended 
Mr.  Pitt  to  employ  him  in  a diplomatic  capacity,  on 
account  of  his  familiarity  with  languages,  and  the  other 
kinds  of  necessary  knowledge.  He  began  by  writing  on 
Porisms;  only  the  other  day  he  read  a paper  on  some 
absurdities  imputed  to  the  Integral  Calculus,  in  French, 
at  Paris.  It  would  be  in  the  highest  degree  tedious  to 
enumerate  all  the  subjects  he  knows  something  of.  Of 
course,  an  extreme  correctness  cannot  be  expected.  ‘ The 
most  m^s-informed  man  in  Europe,’  is  a phrase  of  satire ; 
yet,  even  in  its  satire,  it  conveys  a compliment  to  his 
information. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


415 


An  especial  interest  in  physical  science  may  be  re- 
marked in  Brougham,  as  in  most  men  of  impressible 
minds  in  his  generation.  He  came  into  life  when  the 
great  discoveries  in  our  knowledge  of  the  material  world 
were  either  just  made,  or  on  the  eve  of  being  made. 
Those  enormous  advances,  which  have  been  actually  made 
in  material  civilisation,  were  half  anticipated.  There  was 
a vague  hope  in  science.  The  boundaries  of  the  universe, 
it  was  hoped,  would  move.  Active,  ardent  minds  were 
drawn  with  extreme  action  to  the  study  of  new  moving 
power;  a smattering  of  science  was  immeasurably  less 
common  then  than  now,  but  it  exercised  a stronger 
dominion,  and  influenced  a higher  class  of  genius.  It 
was  new,  and  men  were  sanguine.  In  the  present  day, 
younger  men  are  perhaps  repelled  into  the  opposite  ex- 
treme. We  live  among  the  marvels  of  science,  but  we 
know  how  little  they  change  us.  The  essentials  of  life  are 
what  they  were.  We  go  by  the  train,  but  we  are  not 
improved  at  our  journey’s  end.  We  have  railways,  and 
canals,  and  manufactures, — excellent  things,  no  doubt, 
but  they  do  not  touch  the  soul.  Somehow,  they  seem  to 
make  life  more  superficial.  With  a half- way  ward  dislike, 
some  in  the  present  generation  have  turned  from  physical 
science  and  material  things.  ^ We  have  tried  these,  and 
they  fail,’  is  the  feeling.  ^ What  is  the  heart  of  man  the 
better  for  galvanic  engines  and  hydraulic  presses  ? Leave 
us  to  the  old  poetry  and  the  old  philosophy  ; there  is  at 
least  a life  and  a mind.’  It  is  the  day  after  the  feast.' 

* Thig  was  true  in  the  year  1857,  hut  times  are  changed  ; the  contrary 
would  be  true  of  the  year  1875. 


416 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS, 


We  do  n^t  caie  for  its  delicacies;  we  are  rather  angry  at 
its  profusion  : we  are  croes  to  hear  it  praised.  Men  who 
came  into  active  life  half  a century  ago  were  the  guests 
invited  to  the  banquet;  they  did  not  know  what  was 
coming,  but  they  heard  it  was  something  gorgeous  and 
great;  they  expected  it  with  hope  and  longing.  The 
influence  of  this  feeling  was  curiously  seen  in  the  Useful 
Knowledge  Society,  the  first  great  product  of  the  educa- 
tional movement  in  which  Lord  Brougham  was  the  most 
ardent  leader.  No  one  can  deny  that  their  labours  were 
important,  their  intentions  excellent,  the  collision  of  mind 
which  they  created  most  beneficial.  Still,  looking  to 
their  well-known  publications,  beyond  question  the 
knowledge  they  particularly  wished  to  diffuse  is,  according 
to  the  Grerman  phrase,  ‘ factish.’  Hazlitt  said,  ‘ they 
confounded  a knowledge  of  useful  things  with  useful 
knowledge.’  An  idea,  half  unconscious,  pervades  them, 
that  a knowledge  of  the  detail  of  material  knowledge, 
even  too  of  the  dates  and  shell  of  outside  history,  are 
extremely  important  to  the  mass  of  men ; that  all  will  be 
well  when  we  have  a cosmical  ploughboy,  and  a mob  that 
knows  hydrostatics.  We  shall  never  have  it ; but  even  if 
we  could,  we  should  not  be  much  the  better.  The  heart 
and  passions  of  men  are  moved  by  things  more  within 
their  attainment ; the  essential  nature  is  stirred  by  the 
essential  life ; by  the  real  actual  existence  of  love,  and 
hope,  and  character,  and  by  the  real  literature  which 
takes  in  its  spirit,  and  which  is  in  some  sort  its  unde- 
fecated essence.  Thirty  years  ago  the  preachers  of  this 
now  familiar  doctrine  were  unknown ; nor  was  their 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  LORD  BROUGHAM. 


417 


gospel  for  a moment  the  one  perhaps  most  in  season.  It 
was  good  that  there  should  he  a more  diffused  knowledge 
of  the  material  world ; and  it  was  good,  therefore,  that 
there  should  be  partisans  of  matter,  believers  in  particles, 
zealots  for  tissue,  who  were  ready  to  incur  any  odium  and 
any  labour  that  a few  more  men  might  learn  a few  more 
things.  How  a man  of  incessant  activity  should  pass 
easily  to  such  a creed  is  evident.  He  would  <3ee  the 
obvious  ignorance.  The  less  obvious  argument,  which 
shows  that  this  ignorance,  in  great  measure  inevitable, 
was  of  far  less  importance  than  would  be  thought  at  first 
sight,  would  never  be  found  by  one  who  moved  so  rapidly. 

We  have  gone  through  now,  in  some  hasty  way,  most 
of  the  lights  in  which  Lord  Brougham  has  been  regarded 
by  his  contemporaries.  There  is  still  another  character  in 
which  posterity  will  especially  think  of  him.  He  is  a great 
memoirist.  His  Statesmen  of  George  III.  contains  the  best 
sketches  of  the  political  men  of  his  generation,  one  with 
another,  which  the  world  has,  or  is  likely  to  have.  He  is 
a fine  painter  of  the  exterior  of  human  nature.  Some 
portion  of  its  essence  requires  a deeper  character  ; another 
portion,  more  delicate  sensations ; but  of  the  rough  ap- 
pearance of  men  as  they  struck  him  in  the  law-court  and 
in  parliament, — of  the  great  debater  struggling  with  his 
words, — the  stealthy  advocate  gliding  into  the  confi.dence 
of  the  audience, — the  great  judge  unravelling  all  con- 
troversies, and  deciding  by  a well-weighed  word  all  com- 
plicated doubts, — of  such  men  as  these,  and  of  men  engaged 
in  such  tasks  as  these,  there  is  no  greater  painter  perhaps 
than  Brougham.  His  eager  aggressive  disposition  brouglit 


418 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


him  into  collision  with  conspicuous  men  ; his  skill  in  the 
obvious  parts  of  human  nature  has  made  him  understand 
them.  A man  who  has  knocked  his  head  against  a wall, 
— if  such  an  illustration  is  to  be  hazarded, — ^will  learn  the 
nature  of  the  wall.  Those  who  have  passed  fifty  years  in 
managing  men  of  the  world,  will  know  their  external  na- 
ture, and,  if  they  have  literary  power  enough,  will  describe 
it.  But,  in  general.  Lord  Brougham’s  excellence  as  a 
describer  of  character  is  confined  to  men  whom  he  had 
thus  personally  and  keenly  encountered.  The  sketches  of 
the  philosophers  of  the  eighteenth  century,  of  French 
statesmen,  are  poor  and  meagre.  He  requires  evidently 
the  rough  necessities  of  action  to  make  him  observe. 
There  is,  however,  a remarkable  exception.  He  preserves 
a singularly  vivid  recollection  of  the  instructors  of  his 
youth ; he  nowhere  appears  so  amiable  as  in  describing 
them.  He  is  over-partial,  no  doubt;  but  an  old  man 
may  be  permitted  to  reverence,  if  he  can  reverence,  his 
schoolmaster. 

This  is  all  that  our  limits  will  permit  us  to  say  of 
Lord  Brnugham : on  so  varied  a life,  at  least  on  a life 
with  such  varied  pursuits,  one  might  write  to  any  extent. 
The  regular  biographer  will  come  in  after  years.  It  is 
enough  for  a mere  essayist  to  sketch,  or  strive  to  sketch,  in 
some  rude  outline,  the  nature  of  the  man. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.* 


Most  people  have  looked  over  old  letters.  They  have 
been  struck  with  the  change  of  life,  with  the  doubt  on 
things  now  certain,  the  belief  in  things  now  incredible,  the 
oblivion  of  what  now  seems  most  important,  the  strained 
attention  to  departed  detail,  which  characterise  the 
mouldering  leaves.  Something  like  this  is  the  feeling 
with  which  we  read  Sir  Robert  Peel’s  memoirs.  Who  now 
doubts  on  the  Catholic  question?  It  is  no  longer  a 
‘ question.’  A young  generation  has  come  into  vigorous, 
perhaps  into  insolent  life,  who  regard  the  doubts  that  were 
formerly  entertained  as  absurd,  pernicious,  delusive.  To 
revive  the  controversy  was  an  error.  The  accusations 
which  are  brought  against  a public  man  in  his  own  age 
are  rarely  those  echoed  in  after  times.  Posterity  sees  less 
or  sees  more.  A few  points  stand  out  in  distinct  rigidity; 
there  is  no  idea  of  the  countless  accumulation,  the  collision 
of  action,  the  web  of  human  feeling,  with  which,  in  the 

* Memoirs,  by  the  Eight  Hon.  Sir  Eobert  Poel,  Bart.,  M.P.,  &c.  Pub- 
lished by  the  Trustees  of  his  Papers,  Lord  Mahon  (now  Lord  Stanhope) 
and  the  Eight  Hon.  Edward  Cardwell,  M.P.  Part  I.  The  Eoman  Catholic 
Queftion,  1828-9. 


420 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


day  of  their  life,  they  were  encompassed.  Time  changes 
much.  The  points  of  controversy  seem  clear ; the  assumed 
premises  uncertain.  The  difficulty  is  to  comprehend  Hhe 
difficulty.’  Sir  Eobert  Peel  will  have  to  answer  to  pos- 
terity, not  for  having  passed  Catholic  emancipation  when 
he  did,  but  for  having  opposed  it  before ; not  for  having 
been  precipitate,  but  for  having  been  slow ; not  for  having 
taken  ‘insufficient  securities’  for  the  Irish  Protestant 
Church,  but  for  having  endeavoured  to  take  security  for 
an  institution  too  unjust  to  be  secured  by  laws  or  law- 
givers. 

This  memoir  has,  however,  a deeper  aim.  Its  end  is 
rather  personal  than  national.  It  is  designed  to  show, 
not  that  Sir  Eobert  did  what  was  externally  expedient — 
this  was  probably  too  plain — but  that  he  himself  really 
believed  what  he  did  to  be  right.  The  scene  is  laid,  not 
in  Ireland,  not  in  the  county  of  Clare,  not  amid  the  gross 
triumph  of  O’Connell,  or  the  outrageous  bogs  of  Tipperary, 
but  in  the  Home  Office,  among  files  and  papers,  among 
the  most  correctly-docketed  memoranda,  beside  the  minute 
which  shows  that  Justice  A should  be  dismissed,  that 
malefactor  0 ought  not  to  be  reprieved.  It  is  labelled 
‘ My  Conscience,’  and  is  designed  to  show  that  my  ‘ con- 
duct ’ was  sincere. 

Seriously,  and  apart  from  jesting,  this  is  no  light  mat- 
ter. Not  only  does  the  great  space  which  Sir  Eobert 
Peel  occupied  during  many  years  in  the  history  of  the 
country  entitle  his  character  to  the  anxious  attention  of 
historical  critics,  but  the  very  nature  of  that  character 
itself,  its  traits,  its  definencies,  its  merits,  are  so  congenial 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  421 


to  the  tendencies  of  our  time  and  government,  that  to  be 
unjust  to  him  is  to  be  unjust  to  all  probable  statesmen. 
We  design  to  show  concisely  how  this  is 

A constitutional  statesman  is  in  general  a man  of  com* 
mon  opinions  and  uncommon  abilities.  The  reason  is 
obvious.  When  we  speak  of  a free  government,  we  mean 
a government  in  which  the  sovereign  power  is  divided,  in 
which  a single  decision  is  not  absolute,  where  argument 
has  an  ofiBce.  The  essence  of  the  ‘ gouvernement  des 
avocats,’  as  the  Emperor  Nicholas  called  it,  is  that  you 
must  persuade  so  many  persons.  The  appeal  is  not  to  the 
solitary  decision  of  a single  statesman ; not  to  Eichelieu 
or  Nesselrode  alone  in  his  closet ; but  to  the  jangled  mass 
of  men  with  a thousand  pursuits,  a thousand  interests,  a 
thousand  various  habits.  Public  opinion,  as  it  is  said, 
rules ; and  public  opinion  is  the  opinion  of  the  average 
man.  Fox  used  to  say  of  Burke  : ^ Burke  is  a wise  man  ; 
but  he  is  wise  too  soon.’  The  average  man  will  not  bear 
this.  He  is  a cool,  common  person,  with  a considerate 
air,  with  figures  in  his  mind,  with  his  own  business  to 
attend  to,  with  a set  of  ordinary  opinions  arising  from 
and  suited  to  ordinary  life.  He  can’t  bear  novelty  or 
originalities.  He  says  : ‘ Sir,  I never  heard  such  a thing 
before  in  my  life ; ’ and  he  thinks  this  a reductio  ad 
ahsurdum.  You  may  see  his  taste  by  the  reading  of 
which  he  approves.  Is  there  a more  splendid  monument 
of  talent  and  industry  than  the  Times  ? No  wonder  that 
the  average  man — that  any  one — believes  in  it.  As 
Carlyle  observes  : ^ Let  the  highest  intellect  able  to  write 
epics  try  to  write  such  a leader  for  the  morning  news- 


422 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


papers,  it  cannot  do  it;  the  highest  intellect  will  fail.’ 
But  did  you  ever  see  any  thing  there  you  had  never  seen 
before  ? Out  of  the  million  articles  that  everybody  has 
read,  can  any  one  person  trace  a single  marked  idea  to  a 
single  article  ? Where  are  the  deep  theories,  and  the  wise 
axioms,  and  the  everlasting  sentiments  which  the  writers 
of  the  most  influential  publication  m the  world  have  been 
the  first  to  communicate  to  an  ignorant  species  ? Such 
writers  are  far  too  shrewd.  The  two  million,  or  whatever 
number  of  copies  it  may  be,  they  publish,  are  not  purchased 
because  the  buyers  wish  to  know  new  truth.  The  pur 
chaser  desires  an  article  which  he  can  appreciate  at  sight , 
which  he  can  lay  down  and  say : ‘ An  excellent  article,  very 
excellent ; exactly  my  own  sentiments.’  Original  theories 
give  trouble  ; besides,  a grave  man  on  the  Coal  Exchange 
does  not  desire  to  be  an  apostle  of  novelties  among  the  con- 
temporaneous dealers  in  fuel ; — he  wants  to  be  provided 
with  remarks  he  can  make  on  the  topics  of  the  day  which 
will  not  be  known  not  to  be  his  ; that  are  not  too  pro- 
found ; which  he  can  fancy  the  paper  only  reminded  him 
of.  And  just  in  the  same  way,  precisely  as  the  most  popu- 
lar political  paper  is  not  that  which  is  abstractedly  the 
best  or  most  instructive,  but  that  which  most  exactly  takes 
up  the  minds  of  men  where  it  finds  them,  catches  the 
floating  sentiment  of  society,  puts  it  in  such  a form  as 
society  can  fancy  would  convince  another  society  which 
did  not  believe, — so  the  most  influential  of  constitutional 
statesmen  is  the  one  who  most  felicitously  expresses  the 
creed  of  the  moment,  who  administers  it,  who  embodies  it 
in  laws  and  institutions,  who  gives  it  the  highest  life  it  is 


'niK  CHARACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  423 


capable  of,  who  induces  the  average  man  to  think : ^ I 
could  not  have  done  it  any  better,  if  I had  had  time 
myself.’ 

It  might  be  said  that  this  is  only  one  of  the  results  of 
that  tyranny  of  commonplace  which  seems  to  accompany 
civilisation.  You  may  talk  of  the  tyranny  of  Nero,  and 
Tiberius  ; but  the  real  tyranny  is  the  tyranny  of  your  next 
door  neighbour.  What  law  is  so  cruel  as  the  law  of  doing 
what  he  does  ? What  yoke  is  so  galling  as  the  necessity 
of  being  like  him  ? What  espionnage  of  despotism  comes 
to  your  door  so  effectually  as  the  eye  of  the  man  who  lives 
at  your  door  ? Public  opinion  is  a permeating  influence, 
and  it  exacts  obedience  to  itself ; it  requires  us  to  think 
other  men’s  thoughts,  to  speak  other  men’s  words,  to  fol- 
low other  men’s  habits.  Of  course,  if  we  do  not,  no  formal 
ban  issues,  no  corporeal  pain,  the  coarse  penalty  of  a bar- 
barous society,  is  inflicted  on  the  offender;  but  we  are 
called  ‘ eccentric  ; ’ there  is  a gentle  murmur  of  ^ most  un- 
fortunate ideas,’  ^ singulai  young  man,’  ^ well-intentioned, 
I dare  say;  but  unsafe  sir,  quite  unsafe.’  The  prudent, 
of  course,  conform.  The  place  of  nearly  every  body 
depends  on  the  opinion  of  every  one  else.  There  is 
nothing  like  Swift’s  precept  to  attain  the  repute  of  a sen- 
sible man  : ‘ Be  of  the  opinion  of  the  person  with  whom 
at  the  time  you  are  conversing.’  This  world  is  given  to 
those  whom  this  world  can  trust.  Our  very  conversation 
is  infected.  Where  is  now  the  bold  humour,  the  explicit 
statement,  the  grasping  dogmatism  of  former  days  ? 
They  have  departed ; and  you  read  in  the  orthodox  works 
dreary  regrets  that  the  art  of  conversation  has  passed 


m 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


away.  It  would  be  as  reasonable  to  expect  tbe  art  of 
walking  to  pass  away.  People  talk  well  enough  when 
they  know  to  whom  they  are  speaking.  We  might  even 
say,  that  the  art  of  conversation  was  improved  by  an  ap- 
plication to  new  circumstances.  ‘Hide  your  intellect, 
use  common  words,  say  what  you  are  expected  to  say, 
and  you  shall  be  at  peace.  The  secret  of  prosperity  in 
common  life  is  to  be  common-place  on  principle. 

Whatever  truth  there  may  be  in  these  splenetic  obser- 
vations, might  be  expected  to  show  itself  more  particularly 
in  the  world  of  politics.  People  dread  to  be  thought  un- 
safe in  proportion  as  they  get  their  living  by  being  thought 
to  be  safe.  ‘ Literary  men,’  it  has  been  said,  ‘ are  out- 
casts ; ’ and  they  are  eminent  in  a certain  way  notwith- 
standing. ‘They  can  say  strong  things  of  their  age;  for 
no  one  expects  they  will  go  out  and  act  on  them.’  They 
are  a kind  of  ticket-of-leave  lunatics,  from  whom  no  harm 
is  for  the  moment  expected;  who  seem  quiet,  but  on 
whose  vagaries  a practical  public  must  have  its  eye.  For 
statesmen  it  is  different — they  must  be  thought  men  of 
judgment.  The  most  morbidly  agricultural  counties  were 
aggrieved  when  Mr.  Disraeli  was  made  Chancellor  of  the 
Exchequer.  They  could  not  believe  he  was  a man  of 
solidity ; and  they  could  not  comprehend  taxes  by  the 
author  of  Goningsby^  or  sums  by  an  adherent  of  the 
Caucasus.  ‘ There  is,’  said  Sir  Walter  Scott,  a ‘ certain 
hypocrisy  of  action,  which,  however  it  is  despised  by 
persons  intrinsically  excellent,  will  nevertheless  be  culti- 
vated by  those  who  desire  the  good  repute  of  men.’ 
Politicians,  as  has  been  said,  live  in  the  repute  of  the 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  425 


ijommonalty.  They  may  appeal  to  posterity  ; but  of  what 
use  is  posterity?  Years  before  that  tribunal  comes  into 
life  your  life  will  be  extinct.  It  is  like  a moth  going  into 
Chancery.  Those  who  desire  a public  career,  must  look 
to  the  views  of  the  living  public ; an  immediate  exterior 
influence  is  essential  to  the  exertion  of  their  faculties. 
The  confidence  of  others  is  jom  fulcrum.  You  cannot, 
many  people  wish  you  could,  go  into  parliament  to  repre- 
sent yourself.  You  must  conform  to  the  opinions  of  the 
electors : and  they,  depend  on  it,  will  not  be  original.  In 
a word,  as  has  been  most  wisely  observed,  ^ under  free 
institutions  it  is  necessary  occasionally  to  defer  to  the 
opinions  of  other  people;  and  as  other  people  are  ob- 
viously in  the  wrong,  this  is  a great  hindrance  to  the 
improvement  of  our  political  system,  and  the  progress  of 
our  species.’ 

Seriously,  it  is  a calamity  that  this  is  so.  Occasions 
arise  in  which  a different  sort  of  statesman  is  required.  A 
year  or  two  ago  we  had  one  of  these.  If  any  politician 
had  come  forward  in  this  country,  on  the  topic  of  the  war 
with  prepared  intelligence,  distinct  views,  strong  will, 
commanding  mastery,  it  would  have  brought  support  to 
anxious  intellects,  and  comfort  to  a thousand  homes. 
None  such  came.  Our  people  would  have  statesmen  who 
thought  as  they  thought,  believed  as  they  believed,  acted 
as  they  would  have  acted.  They  had  desired  to  see  their 
own  will  executed.  There  came  a time  when  they  had  no 
clear  will,  no  definite  opinion.  They  reaped  as  they  had 
sown.  As  they  had  selected  an  administrative  tool,  of 
course  it  did  not  turn  out  an  heroic  leader. 


28 


426 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


If  we  wanted  to  choose  an  illustration  of  these  remarks 
out  of  all  the  world,  it  would  be  Sir  Eobert  Peel.  No  man 
possessed  so  exactly  the  essence  of  a constitutional  states- 
man,— the  powers  of  a first-rate  man  and  the  creed  of  a 
second-rate  man.  From  a certain  peculiarity  of  intellect 
and  fortune,  he  was  never  in  advance  of  his  time.  Of 
almost  all  the  great  measures  with  which  his  name  is 
associated,  he  attained  great  eminence  as  an  opponent 
before  he  attained  even  greater  eminence  as  their  advocate. 
On  the  corn-laws,  on  the  currency,  on  the  amelioration  of 
the  criminal  code,  on  Catholic  emancipation, — the  subject 
of  the  memoir  before  us, — he  was  not  one  of  the  earliest 
labourers,  or  quickest  converts.  He  did  not  bear  the 
burden  and  heat  of  the  day ; other  men  laboured,  and  he 
entered  into  their  labours.  As  long  as  these  questions 
remained  the  property  of  first-class  intellects,  as  long  as 
they  were  confined  to  philanthropists  or  speculators,  as  long 
as  they  were  only  advocated  by  austere  intangible  Whigs, 
Sir  Eobert  Peel  was  against  them.  So  soon  as  these  same 
measures,  by  the  progress  of  time,  the  striving  of  under- 
standing, the  conversion  of  receptive  minds,  became  the 
property  of  second-class  intellects.  Sir  Eobert  Peel  became 
possessed  of  them  also.  He  was  converted  at  the  con- 
version of  the  average  man.  His  creed  was,  as  it  had  ever 
been,  ordinary;  but  his  extraordinary  abilities  never 
showed  themselves  so  much.  He  forthwith  wrote  his 
name  on  each  of  those  questions ; so  that  it  will  be  re^ 
membered  as  long  as  they  are  remembered. 

Nor  is  it  merely  on  these  few  measures  that  Sir  Eobert 
Peel’s  mind  must  undoubtedly  have  undergone  a change. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  427 


The  lifetime  of  few  Englishmen  has  been  more  exactly 
commensurate  with  a change  of  public  opinion — a total 
revolution  of  political  thought.  Hardly  any  fact  in  history 
is  so  incredible  as  that  forty  and  a few  years  ago  England 
was  ruled  by  Mr.  Percival.  It  seems  almost  the  same  as 
being  ruled  by  the  Record  newspaper.  He  had  the  same 
poorness  of  thought,  the  same  petty  Conservatism,  the 
same  dark  and  narrow  superstition.  His  quibbling  mode 
of  oratory  seems  to  have  been  scarcely  agreeable  to  his 
friends ; his  impotence  in  political  speculation  moves  the 
wrath — destroys  the  patience  of  the  quietest  reader  now. 
Other  ministers  have  had  great  connections  or  great 
estates,  to  compensate  for  the  contractedness  of  their  minds, 
M>'.  Percival  was  only  a poorish  nisi  prius  lawyer,  and 
there  is  no  kind  of  human  being  so  disagreeable,  so  teasing, 
to  the  gross  Tory  nature.  He  is  not  entitled  to  any  glory 
for  our  warlike  successes ; on  the  contrary,  he  did  his  best 
to  obtain  failure  by  starving  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  and 
plaguing  him  with  petty  vexations.  His  views  in  religion 
inclined  to  that  Sabbatarian  superstition  which  is  of  all 
creeds  the  most  alien  to  the  firm  and  genial  English  nature. 
The  mere  fact  of  such  a premier  being  endured  shows  how 
deeply  tlie  whole  national  spirit  and  interest  was  absorbed 
in  the  contest  with  Napoleon,  how  little  we  understood  the 
sort  of  man  who  should  regulate  its  conduct — ^ in  the  crisis 
of  Europe,’  as  Sidney  Smith  saidy  ‘ he  safely  brought  the 
Curates’  Salaries  Improvement  Bill  to  a hearing  ’ — and  it 
still  more  shows  the  horror  of  all  innovation  which  the  re- 
cent events  of  French  history  had  impressed  on  our  wealthy 
and  comfortable  classes.  They  were  afraid  of  catching 


428 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


revolution^  as  old  women  of  catching  cold.  Sir  Archibald 
Allison  to  this  day  holds  that  revolution  is  an  infectious 
disease,  beginning  no  one  knows  how,  and  going  no  one 
knows  where.  There  is  but  one  rule  of  escape,  explains 
the  great  historian,  ‘ Stay  still,  don’t  move ; do  what  you 
have  been  accustomed  to  do,  and  consult  your  grandmother 
on  every  thing.’  In  1812  the  English  people  were  all 
persuaded  of  this  theory.  Mr.  Percival  was  the  most 
narrow-minded  and  unaltering  man  they  could  find:  lie 
therefore  represented  their  spirit,  and  they  put  him  at  the 
head  of  the  state. 

Such  was  the  state  of  political  questions.  How  little 
)f  real  thoughtfulness  was  then  applied  to  what  we  now 
call  social  questions  cannot  be  better  illustrated  than  bj 
the  proceedings  on  the  occasion  of  Mr.  Percival’s  death. 
Bellingham,  who  killed  him,  was,  whether  punishable  or 
not,  as  clearly  insane  as  a lunatic  can  be  who  offends 
against  the  laws  of  his  country.  He  had  no  idea  of  killing 
Mr.  Percival  particularly.  His  only  idea  was,  that  he  had 
lost  some  property  in  Eussia ; that  the  English  govern- 
ment would  never  repay  him  his  loss  in  Eussia ; and  he 
endeavoured  to  find  some  cabinet  minister  to  shoot  as  a 
compensation.  Lord  Eldon  lived  under  the  belief  that  he 
had  nearly  been  the  victim  himself,  and  told  some  story  of 
a borrowed  hat  and  an  assistant’s  great  coat  to  which  he 
ascribed  his  preservation.  The  whole  affair  was  a mono- 
maniac  delusion.  Bellingham  had  no  ground  for  expecting 
any  repayment.  There  was  no  reason  for  ascribing  his 
pecuniary  ruin  to  the  government  of  that  day  any  more 
than  to  the  government  of  this  day.  Indeed,  if  he  had 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL. 


429 


been  alive  now,  it  would  have  been  agreed  that  he  was  a 
particularly  estimable  man.  Medical  gentlemen  would 
have  been  examined  for  days  on  the  doctrine  of  ‘ irresistible 
impulse,’  ^ moral  insanity,’  ‘ instinctive  pistol-discharges,’ 
and  every  respectful  sympathy  would  have  been  shown 
to  so  curious  an  offender.  Whether  he  was  punishable  oj 
not  may  be  a question  ; but  all  will  now  agree  that  i^ 
was  not  a case  for  the  punishment  of  death.  In  tha 
day  there  was  no  more  doubt  that  he  ought  to  be  hu)  fj 
than  there  would  now  be  that  he  ought  on  no  account  o 
be  hung.  The  serious  reasons,  of  which  the  scient  Ic 
theories  above  alluded  to  are  but  the  exaggerated  resem- 
blance, which  indicate  the  horrible  cruelty  of  inflictmg 
on  those  who  do  not  know  what  they  do  the  extreme 
penalty  of  suffering  meant  for  those  who  perpetrate  the 
worst  they  can  conceive,  are  in  these  years  so  familiar  that 
we  can  hardly  conceive  their  being  unknown.  Yet  the 
Tory  historian  has  to  regret  that  the  motion,  so  earnestly 
insisted  on  by  his  counsel,  to  have  the  trial  postponed  for 
some  days,  to  obtain  evidence  to  establish  his  insanity,  was 
not  acceded  to;  that  a judicial  proceeding,  requiring  be- 
yond all  others  the  most  calm  and  deliberate  consideration, 
should  have  been  hurried  over  with  a precipitation,  which, 
if  not  illegal,  was  at  least  unusual ; and  a noble  lord  ^ im- 
proved ’ the  moment  of  the  assassination  by  exclaiming  to 
the  peers  in  opposition,  ^ You  see,  my  lords,  the  conse- 
quence of  your  agitating  the  question  of  Catholic  emanci^ 
'pation.^  To  those  who  now  know  England,  it  seems 
scarcely  possible  this  could  have  occurred  here  only 
forty-four  years  since.  It  was  in  such  a world  that  Sir 


430 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


Robert  Peel  commenced  his  career.  He  was  under-secre- 
tary of  state  for  the  colonies,  at  the  time  of  Mr.  Percivars 
assassination. 

We  cannot,  however,  believe  that,  even  if  Mr.  Percival 
had  lived,  his  power  would  have  very  long  endured. 
It  passed  to  milder  and  quieter  men.  It  passed  to  such 
men  as  Lord  Liverpool  and  Mr.  Peel.  The  ruling  power 
at  that  time  in  England,  as  for  many  years  before,  as  even 
in  some  measure,  though  far  less,  now,  was  the  class  of 
aristocratic  gentry ; by  which  we  do  not  mean  to  denote 
the  House  of  Lords  exclusively,  but  to  indicate  the  great 
class  of  hereditary  landed  proprietors,  who  are  in  sympathy 
with  the  upper  house  on  cardinal  points,  yet  breathe  a 
somewhat  freer  air,  are  more  readily  acted  on  by  the 
opinion  of  the  community,  more  contradictable  by  the 
lower  herd,  less  removed  from  its  prejudices  by  a refined 
and  regulated  education.  From  the  time  of  the  revolution, 
more  or  less,  this  has  been  the  ruling  class  in  the  commu- 
nity ; the  close-borough  system  and  the  county  system 
giving  them  mainly  the  control  of  the  House  of  Commons, 
and  their  feelings  being  in  general,  as  it  were,  a mean 
term  between  those  of  the  higher  nobility  and  the  trading 
public  of  what  were  then  the  few  large  towns.  The  rults 
of  the  House  of  Lords  was  rather  mediate  than  direct. 
By  the  various  means  of  influence  and  social  patronage 
and  oppression  familiar  to  a wealthy  and  high-bred  aris- 
tocracy, the  highest  members  of  it,  of  course,  exercised 
over  all  below  them  a sure  and  continual  influence  : it 
worked  silently  and  commonly  on  ordinary  questions  and 
in  quiet  times;  yet  it  was  liable  to  be  overborne  by  a 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  431 


harsher  and  luder  power  when  stormy  passions  arose,  in 
the  days  of  wars  and  tumults.  The  largest  amount  of 
administrative  power  has  indeed  been  rarely  in  the  hands 
of  the  highest  aristocracy,  and  in  a great  measure  for  a 
peculiar  reason  : that  aristocracy  will  rarely  do  the  work, 
and  can  rarely  do  the  work.  The  enormous  pressure  of 
daily-growing  business  which  besets  the  governors  of  a 
busy  and  complicated  community  is  too  much  for  the 
refined  habits,  delicate  discrimination,  anxious  judgment, 
which  the  course  of  their  life  developes  in  the  highest 
classes,  and  with  which  it  nourishes  the  indolence  natural 
to  those  who  have  this  world  to  enjoy.  The  real  strain 
of  the  necessary  labour  has  generally  been  borne  by  men 
of  a somewhat  lower  grade,  trained  by  an  early  ambition, 
a native  aptitude,  a hardy  competition,  to  perform  its 
copious  tasks.  Such  men  are  partakers  of  two  benefits. 
They  are  rough  and  ready  enough  to  accomplish  the  coarse 
enormous  daily  work : they  have  lived  with  higher  gentle- 
men enough  to  know  and  feel  what  such  persons  think 
and  want.  Sir  Eobert  Walpole  is  the  type  of  this  class. 
He  was  a Norfolk  squire,  and  not  a nobleman;  he  was 
bred  a gentleman,  and  yet  was  quite  coarse  enough  for 
any  business.  His  career  was  what  you  would  expect. 
For  very  many  years  he  administered  the  government 
much  as  the  aristocracy  wished  and  desired.  They  were, 
BO  to  speak  the  directors  of  the  company  which  is  called 
the  English  nation  ; they  met  a little  and  talked  a little : 
but  Sir  Eobert  was  the  manager,  who  knew  all  the  facts, 
came  every  day,  saw  everybody,  and  was  every  thing. 

Passing  over  the  time  of  Lord  Liverpool,  of  whom  thii 


432 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


is  not  now^the  place  to  speak,  some  such  destiny  as  this 
would  in  his  first  political  life  have  appeared  likely  to  be 
that  of  Sir  Eohert  Peel.  If  an  acute  master  of  the  betting 
art  had  been  asked  the  ‘favourite’  statesman  who  was 
likely  to  rule  in  that  generation,  he  would  undoubtedly 
have  selected  Sir  Eohert.  He  was  rich,  decorous,  labori- 
ous, and  had  devoted  himself  regularly  to  the  task.  There 
was  no  other  such  man.  It  was  likely,  at  least  to  super- 
ficial observers,  that  his  name  would  descend  to  posterity 
as  the  ‘ Sir  Eobert  ’ of  a new  time ; — a time  changed, 
indeed,  from  that  of  Walpole,  but  resembling  it  in  its 
desire  to  be  ruled  by  a great  administrator,  skilful  in  all 
kinds  of  business  and  transactions,  yet  associated  with  the 
aristocracy ; by  one  unremarkable  in  his  opinions,  but 
remarkable  in  his  powers.  The  fates,  however,  designed 
Peel  for  very  different  destiny ; and  to  a really  close  ob- 
server there  were  signs  in  his  horoscope  which  should 
have  clearly  revealed  it.  Sir  Eobert’s  father  and  grand- 
father were  two  of  the  men  who  created  Lancashire.  No 
sooner  did  the  requisite  machinery  issue  from  the  brain  of 
the  inventor  than  its  capabilities  were  seized  on  by  strong, 
ready,  bold  men  of  business,  who  erected  it,  used  it,  de- 
vised a factory  system,  combined  a factory  population — - 
created,  in  a word,  that  black  industrial  region,  of  whose 
augmenting  wealth  and  horrid  labour  tales  are  daily  borne 
to  the  genial  and  lazy  south.  Of  course  it  cannot  be  said 
that  mill-makers  invented  the  middle  classes.  The  history 
of  England  perhaps  shows  that  it  has  not  for  centuries 
been  without  an  unusual  number  of  persons  with  comfort- 
able and  moderate  means.  But  though  this  class  has  ever 


THE  CHARACTER  OP  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  433 


been  found  among  us,  and  has  ever  been  more  active  than 
in  any  other  similar  country,  yet  to  a great  extent  it  was 
scattered,  headless,  motionless.  Small  rural  out-of-the- 
way  towns,  country  factories  few  and  far  between,  con- 
cealed and  divided  this  great  and  mixed  mass  of  petty 
means  and  steady  intelligence.  The  hugh  heaps  of  manu- 
facturing wealth  were  not  to  be  concealed.  They  at  once 
placed  on  a level  with  the  highest  in  the  land — in  matters 
of  expenditure,  and  in  those  countless  social  relations  which 
depend  upon  expenditure — men  sprung  from  the  body  of 
the  people,  unmistakably  speaking  its  language,  inevitably 
thinking  its  thoughts.  It  is  true  that  the  first  manufac- 
turers were  not  democratic.  Sir  Eobert  Peel,  the  states- 
man’s father — a type  of  the  class — was  a firm,  honest, 
domineering  Conservative ; but,  however  on  such  topics 
they  may  so  think,  however  on  other  topics  they  may  try 
to  catch  the  languages  of  the  class  to  which  they  rise,  the 
grain  of  the  middle  class  will  surely  show  itself  in  those 
who  have  risen  from  the  middle  class.  If  Mr.  Cobden 
were  to  go  over  to  the  enemy,  if  he  were  to  offer  to  serve 
Lord  Derby  vice  Disraeli  disconcerted,  it  would  not  be 
possible  for  him  to  speak  as  the  hereditary  landowner 
speaks.  It  is  not  that  the  hereditary  landowner  knows 
more; — indeed,  either  in  book-learning  or  in  matters  of 
observation,  in  acquaintance  with  what  has  been,  or  is 
going  to  be,  or  what  now  is,  the  owners  of  rent  are  not 
superior  to  the  receivers  of  profits;  yet  their  dialect  is 
different — the  one  speaks  the  language  of  years  of  toil, 
and  the  other  of  years  of  indolence.  A harsh  laborious- 
ness characterises  the  one,  a pleasant  geniality  the  other 


434 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


The  habit  cf  industry  is  ingrained  in  those  who  have  risen 
by  it;  it  modifies  every  word  and  qualifies  every  notion. 
They  are  the  /SavavaoL  of  work.  Vainly,  therefore,  did 
the  first  manufacturers  struggle  to  be  Conservatives,  to  be 
baronets,  to  be  peers.  The  titles  they  might  obtain,  their 
outward  existence  they  might  change,  themselves  in  a 
manner  they  might  alter ; but  a surer  force  was  dragging 
them  and  those  who  resembled  them  into  another  region, 
filling  them  with  other  thoughts,  making  them  express 
what  people  of  the  middle  classes  had  always  obscurely 
felt,  pushing  forward  this  new  industrial  order  by  the  side, 
or  even  in  front  of  the  old  aristocratic  order.  The  new 
class  has  not,  indeed,  shown  itself  republican.  They  have 
not  especially  cared  to  influence  the  machinery  of  govern- 
ment. Their  peculiarity  has  been,  that  they  wished  to 
see  the  government  administered  according  to  the  notions 
familiar  to  them  in  their  business  life.  They  had  no  belief 
in  mystery  or  magic:  probably  they  had  never  appre- 
ciated the  political  influence  of  the  imagination ; they 
wished  to  see  plain  sense  applied  to  the  most  prominent 
part  of  practical  life.  In  his  later  career,  the  second  Sir 
Robert  Peel  was  the  statesman  who  most  completely  and 
thoroughly  expressed  the  sentiments  of  this  new  dynasty ; 
— instead  of  being  the  nominee  of  a nobility,  he  became 
the  representative  of  a transacting  and  trading  multitude. 

Both  of  these  two  classes  were,  however,  equally  pos- 
sessed by  the  vice  or  tendency  we  commented  on  at  the 
outset.  They  each  of  them  desired  to  see  the  government 
carried  on  exactly  according  to  their  own  views.  The 
idea  on  which  seems  to  rest  our  only  chance  of  again  seeing 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  435 


great  statesmen,  of  placing  deep  deferential  trust  in  those 
who  have  given  real  proofs  of  comprehensive  sagacity,  had 
scarcely  dawned  on  either.  The  average  man  had,  so  to 
say,  varied ; he  was  no  longer  of  the  one  order,  but  of 
an  inferior ; but  he  was  not  at  all  less  exacting  or  tyran- 
nical. Perhaps  he  was  even  more  so ; for  the  indolent  gen- 
tleman is  less  absolute  and  domineering  than  the  active 
man  of  business.  However  that  may  be,  it  was  the  fate  of 
Sir  Kobert  Peel,  in  the  two  phases  of  his  career,  to  take 
a leading  share  in  carrying  out  the  views,  in  administering 
the  creed,  first  of  one  and  then  of  the  other. 

Perhaps  in  our  habitual  estimate  of  Peel  we  hardly 
enough  bear  this  in  mind.  We  remember  him  as  the 
guiding  chief  of  the  most  intelligent  Conservative  govern- 
ment that  this  country  has  ever  seen.  We  remember  the 
great  legislative  acts  which  we  owe  to  his  trained 
capacity,  every  detail  of  which  bears  the  impress  of  his 
practised  hand;  we  know  that  his  name  is  pronounced 
with  applause  in  the  great  marts  of  trade  and  seats  of 
industry ; that  even  yet  it  is  muttered  with  reproach  in 
the  obscure  abodes  of  squires  and  rectors.  We  forget  that 
his  name  was  once  the  power  of  the  Protestant  interest,  the 
shibboleth  by  which  squires  and  rectors  distinguished 
those  whom  they  loved  from  those  whom  they  hated ; we 
forget  that  he  defended  the  Manchester  Massacre,  the  Six 
A.cts,  the  Imposition  of  Tests,  the  rule  of  Orangemen. 
We  remember  Peel  as  the  proper  head  of  a moderate,  in- 
telligent, half-commercial  community  ; we  forget  that  he 
>nce  was  the  chosen  representative  of  a gentry  untrained 


436 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


to  gp*eat  affairs,  absorbed  in  a great  war,  only  just  recover 
ing  from  the  horror  of  a great  revolution. 

In  truth,  the  character  of  Sir  Eobert  Peel  happily  fitted 
him  both  to  be  the  chosen  head  of  a popular  community, 
imperiously  bent  on  its  own  ideas,  and  to  be  the  head  of 
that  community  in  shifting  and  changing  times.  Sir 
Eobert  was  at  Harrow  with  Lord  Byron,  who  has  left  the 
characteristic  reminiscence : ^ I was  always  in  scrapes. 
Peel  never.  And  opposed  as  they  were  in  their  fortunes 
as  boys  and  men,  they  were  at  least  equally  contrasted  in 
the  habit  and  kind  of  action  of  their  minds.  Lord  Byron’s 
mind  gained  every  thing  it  was  to  gain  by  one  intense, 
striking  effort.  By  a blow  of  the  imagination  he  elicited 
a single  bright  spark  of  light  on  every  subject,  and  that 
was  all.  And  this  he  never  lost.  The  intensity  of  the 
thinking  action  seemed  to  burn  it  on  the  memory,  there  to 
remain  alone.  But  he  made  no  second  effort ; he  gained 
no  more.  He  always  avowed  his  incapability  of  continuous 
application  : he  could  not,  he  said,  learn  the  grammar  ot 
any  language.  In  later  life  he  showed  considerable  talents 
for  action ; but  those  that  had  to  act  with  him  observed 
that,  versatile  as  were  his  talents,  and  mutable  as  his  con- 
victions had  always  seemed  to  be,  in  reality  he  was  the 
most  stubborn  of  men.  He  heard  what  you  had  to  say, 
assented  to  all  you  had  to  say ; and  the  next  morning 
returned  to  his  original  opinion.  No  amount  of  ordinary 
argumentative  resistance  was  so  hopeless  as  that  facile 
acquiescence  and  instantaneous  recurrence.  The  truth  was, 
that  he  was, — and  some  others  are  similarly  constituted, 
— unable  to  retain  anything  which  he  did  not  at  any  rate 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  437 

se&m  to  gain  by  the  unaided  single  rush  of  his  iwu  mind. 
Tlie  ideas  of  such  minds  are  often  not  new,  very  often  they 
are  hardly  in  the  strictest  sense  original ; they  really  were 
very  much  suggested  from  without,  and  preserved  in  some 
obscure  corner  of  memory,  out  of  the  way  and  unknown ; 
but  it  remains  their  characteristic  that  they  seem  to  the 
mind  of  the  thinker  to  be  born  from  its  own  depths,  to 
be  the  product  of  its  latent  forces.  There  is  a kind  of 
eruption  of  ideas  from  a subterconscious  world.  The  whole 
mental  action  is  volcanic  ; the  lava  flood  glows  in  Childe 
Harold ; all  the  thoughts  are  intense,  flung  forth,  vivid. 
The  day  after  the  eruption  the  mind  is  calm ; it  seems 
as  if  it  could  not  again  do  the  like;  the  product  only 
remains,  distinct,  peculiar,  indestructible.  The  mind  of 
Peel  was  the  exact  opposite  of  this.  His  opinions  far  more 
resembled  the  daily  accumulating  insensible  deposits  of  a 
rich  alluvial  soil.  The  great  stream  of  time  flows  on 
with  all  things  on  i ts  surface ; and  slowly,  grain  by  grain ; 
a mould  of  wise  experience  is  unconsciously  left  on  the 
still,  extended  intellect.  You  scarcely  think  of  such  a 
mind  as  acting ; it  seems  always  acted  upon.  There  is 
no  trace  of  gushing,  overpowering,  spontaneous  impulse ; 
everything  seems  acquired.  The  thoughts  are  calm.  In 
Lord  Byron,  the  very  style — dashing,  free,  incisive — shows 
the  bold  impulse  from  which  it  came.  The  stealthy  ac- 
cumulating words  of  Peel  seem  like  the  quiet  leavings  of 
an  outward  tendency,  which  brought  these,  but  might  as 
well  have  brought  others.  There  is  no  peculiar  stamp 
either,  in  the  ideas.  They  might  have  been  any  one’s  ideas. 
They  belong  to  the  general  diffused  stock  of  observations 


438 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


which  are  to  be  found  in  the  civilised  world.  They  are  not 
native  to  the  particular  mind,  nor  ^ to  the  manner  born. 
Like  a science,  they  are  credible  or  incredible  by  all  men 
equally.  This  secondary  character,  as  we  may  call  it,  of 
intellect,  is  evidently  most  useful  to  a statesman  of  the 
constitutional  class,  such  as  we  have  described  him.  He 
insensibly  and  inevitably  takes  in  and  imbibes,  by  means 
of  it,  the  ideas  of  those  around  him.  If  he  was  left  in  a 
vacuum,  he  would  have  no  ideas.  The  primary  class  of 
mind  that  strikes  out  its  own  belief  would  here  be  utterly 
at  fault.  It  would  want  something  which  other  men  had ; 
it  would  discover  something  which  other  men  would  not 
understand.  Sir  Eobert  Peel  was  a statesman  for  forty 
years  ; under  our  constitution.  Lord  Byron,  eminent  as  was 
his  insight  into  men,  and  remarkable  as  was  his  power,  at 
least  for  short  periods,  of  dealing  with  them,  would  not 
have  been  a statesman  for  forty  days. 

It  is  very  likely  that  many  people  may  not  think  Sir 
Eobert  Peel’s  mind  so  interesting  as  Lord  Byron’s.  They 
may  prefer  the  self-originating  intellect  which  invents  and 
retains  its  own  ideas,  to  the  calm  receptive  intellect  which 
acquires  its  belief  from  without.  The  answer  lies  in  what 
has  been  said — a constitutional  statesman  must  sympathise 
in  the  ideas  of  the  many.  As  the  many  change,  it  will  be 
his  good  fortune  if  he  can  contrive  to  change  with  them. 
Statesmen  may  not  live  under  hermetical  seals.  Like 
other  men,  they  must  be  influenced  ,by  the  opinions  of 
other  men.  How  potent  is  this  influence,  those  best  kno#7 
who  have  tried  to  hold  ideas  diflferent  from  the  ideas  of 
those  around. 


THE  CHAKACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  439 


In  another  point  of  view  also  Sir  Eohert  Peel’s  character 
<vas  exactly  fitted  to  the  position  we  have  delineated.  He 
vvas  a great  administrator.  Civilisation  requires  this.  In 
a simple  age  work  may  be  difficult,  but  it  is  scarce.  There 
are  fewer  people,  and  everybody  wants  fewer  things.  The 
mere  tools  of  civilisation  seem  in  some  sort  to  augment  work. 
In  early  times  when  a despot  wishes  to  govern  a distant  pro- 
vince, he  sends  down  a satrap  on  a grand  horse,  with  other 
people  on  little  horses ; and  very  little  is  heard  of  the 
satrap  again  unless  he  send  back  some  of  the  little  people 
to  tell  what  he  has  been  doing.  No  great  labour  of  super- 
intendence is  possible.  Common  rumour  and  casual 
complaints  are  the  sources  of  intelligence.  If  it  seem  cer- 
tain that  the  province  is  in  a bad  state,  satrap  No.  1 is 
recalled,  and  satrap  No.  2 sent  out  in  his  stead.  In  civi- 
lised countries  the  process  is  different.  You  erect  a bureau 
in  the  province  you  want  to  govern ; you  make  it  write 
letters  and  copy  letters ; it  sends  home  eight  reports  per 
diem  to  the  head  bureau  in  St.  Petersburg.  Nobody  does 
a sum  in  the  province  without  somebody  doing  the  same 
sum  in  the  capital,  to  ^ check  him,’  and  see  that  he  does  it 
correctly.  The  consequence  of  this  is,  to  throw  on  the 
heads  of  departments  an  amount  of  reading  and  labour 
which  can  only  be  accomplished  by  the  greatest  natural 
aptitude,  the  most  efficient  training,  the  most  firm  and 
regular  industry.  Under  a free  government  it  is  by  no 
means  better,  perhaps  in  some  respects  it  is  worse.  It  is 
true  that  many  questions  which,  under  the  French  despot- 
ism, are  referred  to  Paris,  are  settled  in  England  on  the 
very  spot  where  they  are  to  be  done,  without  reference  to 


440 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


London  at  all.  But  as  a set-off,  a constitutional  adminis^ 
trator  has  to  be  always  consulting  others,  finding  out  what 
this  man  or  that  man  chooses  to  think  ; learning  which 
form  of  error  is  believed  by  Lord  B,,  which  by  Lord  C. ; 
addiDg  up  the  errors  of  the  alphabet,  and  seeing  what  poi  • 
tion  of  what  he  thinks  he  ought  to  do,  they  will  all  of  them 
together  allow  him  to  do.  Likewise,  though  the  personal 
freedom  and  the  individual  discretion  which  free  govern- 
ments allow  to  their  subjects  seem  at  first  likely  to  dimi- 
nish the  work  which  those  governments  have  to  do,  it  may 
be  doubted  whether  it  does  so  really  and  in  the  end.  In- 
dividual discretion  strikes  out  so  many  more  pursuits,  and 
some  supervision  must  be  maintained  over  each  of  those 
pursuits.  No  despotic  government  would  consider  the 
police  force  of  London  enough  to  keep  down,  watch,  and 
superintend  such  a population;  but  then  no  despotic 
government  would  have  such  a city  as  London  to  keep 
down.  The  freedom  of  growth  allows  the  possibility  of 
growth;  and  though  liberal  governments  take  so  much 
less  in  proportion  upon  them,  yet  the  scale  of  operations 
is  so  much  enlarged  by  the  continual  exercise  of  civil 
liberty,  that  the  real  work  is  ultimately  perhaps  as  immense. 
While  a despotic  government  is  regulating  ten  per  cent, 
of  ten  men’s  actions,  a free  government  has  to  regulate  one 
per  cent,  of  a hundred  men’s  actions.  The  difficulty,  too, 
increases.  Any  body  can  understand  a rough  despotic 
community; — a small  buying  class  of  nobles,  a small 
selling  class  of  traders,  a large  producing  class  of  serfs,  are 
much  the  same  in  all  quarters  of  the  globe ; but  a free 
intellectual  community  is  a complicated  network  of  rami« 


THE  CHARACTEE  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  441 


fied  relations,  interlacing  and  passing  hither  and  thither, 
old  and  new, — some  of  fine  city  weaving,  others  of  groRS 
agricultural  construction.  You  are  never  sure  what  effect 
any  force  or  any  change  may  produce  on  a frame-work  so 
exquisite  and  so  involved.  Govern  as  you  may,  it  will 
be  a work  of  great  difficulty,  labour,  and  responsibility ; 
and  no  man  who  is  thus  occupied  ought  ever  to  go  to  bed 
without  reflecting,  that  from  the  difficulty  of  his  employ- 
ment he  may,  probably  enough,  have  that  day  done  more 
evil  than  good.  What  view  Sir  Kobert  Peel  took  of  these 
duties,  he  has  himself  informed  us. 

‘ Take  the  case  of  the  Prime  Minister.  You  must  pre- 
sume that  he  reads  every  important  despatch  from  every 
foreign  court.  He  cannot  consult  with  the  Secretary  of 
State  for  Foreign  Affairs,  and  exercise  the  influence  which 
he  ought  to  have  with  respect  to  the  conduct  of  foreign 
affairs,  unless  he  be  master  of  everything  of  real  importance 
passing  in  that  department.  It  is  the  same  with  respect 
to  other  departments ; India,  for  instance ; how  can  the 
Prime  Minister  be  able  to  judge  of  the  course  of  policy 
with  regard  to  India,  unless  he  be  cognisant  of  all  the  cur- 
rent important  correspondence  ? In  the  case  of  Ireland 
and  the  Home  Department  it  is  the  same.  Then  the  Prime 
Minister  has  the  patronage  of  the  Crown  to  exercise, 
which  you  say,  and  justly  say,  is  of  so  much  importance 
and  of  so  much  value ; he  has  to  make  inquiries  into  the 
qualifications  of  the  persons  who  are  candidates  ; he  has  to 
conduct  the  whole  of  the  communications  with  the  Sove- 
reign ; he  has  to  write,  probably  with  his  own  hand,  the 
letters  in  reply  to  all  persons  of  station  who  address  them^ 
29 


442 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


selves  to  him ; he  has  to  receive  deputations  on  pubKo 
business ; during  the  sitting  of  Parliament  he  is  expected 
to  attend  six  or  seven  hours  a day,  while  Parliament  is 
sitting,  for  four  or  five  days  in  the  week  ; at  least  he  is 
blamed  if  he  is  absent.’ 

The  necessary  effect  of  all  this  labour  is,  that  those 
subject  to  it  have  no  opinions.  It  requires  a great  deal  of 
time  to  have  opinions.  Belief  is  a slow  process.  That 
leisure  which  the  poets  say  is  necessary  to  be  good,  or  to 
be  wise,  is  needful  for  the  humbler  task  of  allowing 
respectable  maxims  to  take  root  respectably.  The  ‘ wise 
passiveness  ’ of  Mr.  Wordsworth  is  necessary  in  very 
ordinary  matters.  If  you  chain  a man’s  head  to  a ledger, 
and  keep  him  constantly  adding  up,  and  take  a pound  off 
his  salary  whenever  he  stops,  you  can’t  expect  him  to  have 
a sound  conviction  on  Catholic  emancipation,  tithes,  and 
original  ideas  on  the  Transcaucasian  provinces.  Our 
system,  indeed,  seems  expressly  provided  to  make  it 
unlikely.  The  most  benumbing  thing  to  the  intellect  is 
routine  ; the  most  bewildering  is  distraction  : our  system  is 
a distracting  routine.  You  see  this  in  the  description  just 
given,  which  is  not  exhaustive.  Sir  Eobert  Peel  once 
asked  to  have  a number  of  questions  carefully  written 
down  which  they  asked  him  one  day  in  succession  in  the 
House  of  Commons.  They  seemed  a list  of  everv  thing 
that  could  occur  in  the  British  empire,  or  to  the  brain  of 
a member  of  Parliament.  A premier’s  whole  life  *s  a series 
of  such  transitions.  It  is  rather  wonderful  that  our  public 
men  have  any  minds  left,  than  that  a certain  unfixity  of 
opinion  seems  growing  upon  them. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  443 


We  may  go  further  on  this  subject.  A great  adminis- 
trator is  not  a man  likely  to  desire  to  have  fixed  opinions. 
His  natural  bent  and  tendency  is  to  immediate  action. 
The  existing  pressing  circumstances  of  the  case  fill  up  his 
mind.  The  letters  to  be  answered,  the  documents  to  be 
filed,  the  memoranda  to  be  made,  engross  his  attention. 
He  is  angry  if  you  distract  him.  A bold  person  who  sug- 
gests a matter  of  princidle,  or  a difficulty  of  thought,  or  an 
abstract  result  that  seems  improbable  in  the  case  ^ before 
the  board,’  will  be  set  down  as  a speculator,  a theorist,  a 
troubler  of  practical  life.  To  expect  to  hear  from  such 
men  profound  views  of  future  policy,  digested  plans  of 
distant  action,  is  to  mistake  their  genius  entirely.  It  is 
like  asking  the  broker  of  the  Stock  Exchange  what  will 
be  the  price  of  the  funds  this  day  six  months?  His 
whole  soul  is  absorbed  in  thinking  what  the  price  will 
be  in  ten  minutes.  A momentary  change  of  an  eighth 
is  more  important  to  him  than  a distant  change  of  a 
hundred  eighths.  So  the  brain  of  a great  administrator 
is  naturally  occupied  with  the  details  of  the  day,  the 
passing  dust,  the  granules  of  that  day’s  life;  and  his 
unforseeing  temperament  turns  away  uninterested  from 
reaching  speculations,  from  vague  thought,  and  from 
extensive  and  far-off  plans.  Of  course,  it  is  not  meant 
that  a great  administrator  has  absolutely  no  general  views  ; 
some  indeed  he  must  have.  A man  cannot  conduct  the 
detail  of  affairs  without  having  some  plan  which  regulates 
that  detail.  He  cannot  help  having  some  idea,  vague  or 
accurate,  indistinct  or  distinct,  of  the  direction  in  which  he 
is  going,  and  the  purpose  for  which  he  is  travelling.  But 


444 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


the  difference  is,  that  this  plan  is  seldom  his  own,  the 
offspring  of  his  own  brain,  the  result  of  his  own  mental 
contention ; it  is  the  plan  of  some  one  else.  Providence 
generally  bestows  on  the  working  adaptive  man  a quiet 
adoptive  nature.  He  receives  insensibly  the  suggestions 
of  others ; he  hears  them  with  willing  ears ; he  accepts 
them  with  placid  belief.  An  acquiescent  credulity  is 
inherent  in  such  men;  they  cannot  help  beirg  sure  that 
what  every  one  says  must  be  true ; the  vox  po^uM  is  a part 
of  their  natural  religion.  It  has  been  made  b matter  of 
wonder  that  Peel  should  have  belonged  to  ;ue  creed  of 
Mr.  Percival  and  Lord  Sidmouth.  Perhaps,  indeed,  our 
existing  psychology  will  hardly  explain  the  process  by 
which  a decorous  young  man  acquires  the  creed  of  his  era. 
He  assumes  its  belief  as  he  assumes  his  costume.  He 
imitates  the  respectable  classes.  He  avoids  an  original 
opinion,  like  an  outre  coat ; a new  idea,  like  an  unknown 
tie.  Especially  he  does  so  on  matters  of  real  concern  to 
him,  on  those  on  which  he  knows  he  must  act.  He 
acquiesces  in  the  creed  of  the  orthodox  agents.  He 
scarcely  considers  for  himself ; he  acknowledges  the 
apparent  authority  of  dignified  experience.  He  is,  he 
remembers,  but  the  junior  partner  in  the  firm  ; it  does  not 
occur  to  him  to  doubt  that  those  were  right  who  were 
occupied  in  its  management  years  before  him.  In  this 
way  he  acquires  an  experience  which  more  independent 
and  original  minds  are  apt  to  want.  There  was  a great 
cry  when  the  Whigs  came  into  office,  at  the  time  of  the 
Reform  Bill,  that  they  were  not  men  of  business.  Of 
course,  after  a very  long  absence  from  office,  they  could 


THE  CHAEACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  445 


not  possess  a technical  acquaintance  with  official  forms,  a 
trained  facility  in  official  action.  This  Sir  Eobert  Peel 
acquired  from  his  apprenticeship  to  Mr.  Percival.  His 
early  connection  with  the  narrow  Conservative  party  has 
been  considered  a disadvantage  to  him ; but  it  may  well 
be  doubted  whether  his  peculiar  mind  was  not  more 
improved  by  the  administrative  training  than  impaired  by 
the  contact  with  prejudiced  thoughts.  He  never  could 
have  been  a great  thinker ; he  became  what  nature 
designed,  a great  agent. 

In  a third  respect  also  Sir  Eobert  Peel  conformed  to  the 
type  of  a constitutional  statesman ; and  that  third  respect 
also  seems  natural  to  lead  to  a want  of  defined  principle, 
and  to  apparent  fluctuation  of  opinion.  He  was  a great 
debater;  and  of  all  pursuits  ever  invented  by  man  for 
separating  the  faculty  of  argument  from  the  capacity  of 
belief,  the  art  of  debating  is  probably  the  most  effectual. 
Mr.  Macaulay  tells  us  that,  in  his  opinion,  this  is  ‘ the 
most  serious  of  the  evils  which  are  to  be  set  off  against  the 
many  blessings  of  popular  government.  The  keenest  and 
most  vigorous  minds  of  every  generation,  minds  often 
admirably  fitted  for  the  investigation  of  truth,  are  habitually 
employed  in  producing  arguments  such  as  no  man  of  sense 
would  ever  put  into  a treatise  intended  for  publication, — 
arguments  which  are  just  good  enough  to  be  used  once, 
when  aided  by  fluent  delivery  and  pointed  language.  The 
habit  of  discussing  questions  in  this  way  necessarily  reacts 
on  the  intellects  of  our  ablest  men,  particularly  of  those 
who  are  introduced  into  Parliament  at  a very  early  age, 
before  their  minds  have  expanded  to  full  maturity.  The 


446 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


tAalent  for  debate  is  developed  in  such  men  to  a aegree 
which,  to  the  multitude,  seems  as  marvellous  as  the  per- 
formances of  an  Italian  improvvisatore.  But  they  are 
fortunate  indeed  if  they  retain  unimpaired  the  faculties 
which  are  required  for  close  reasoning,  or  for  enlarged 
speculation.  Indeed,  we  should  sooner  expect  a great 
original  work  on  political  science, — such  a work,  for  ex- 
ample, as  the  Wealth  of  Nations^ — from  an  apothecary  in 
a country  town,  or  from  a minister  in  the  Hebrides,  than 
from  a statesman,  who,  ever  since  he  was  one-and‘-twenty, 
had  been  a distinguished  debater  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons.’ But  it  may  well  be  doubted  whether  there  is  not 
in  the  same  pursuit  a deeper  evil,  hard  to  eradicate,  and 
tending  to  corrupt  and  destroy  the  minds  of  those  who  are 
beneath  its  influence.  Constitutional  statesmen  are  obliged 
not  only  to  employ  arguments  which  they  do  not  think 
conclusive,  but  likewise  to  defend  opinions  which  they 
do  not  believe  to  be  true.  Whether  we  approve  it  or 
lament  it,  there  is  no  question  that  our  existing  political 
life  is  deeply  marked  by  the  habit  of  advocacy.  Perhaps 
fifteen  measures  may  annually,  on  an  average,  be  brought 
in  by  a cabinet  government  of  fifteen  persons.  It  is 
impossible  to  believe  that  all  members  of  that  cabinet 
agree  in  all  those  measures.  No  two  people  agree  in 
fifteen  things  • fifteen  clever  men  never  yet  agreed  in  any 
thing;  yet  they  all  defend  them,  argue  for  them,  are 
responsible  for  them.  It  is  always  quite  possible  that  the 
minister  who  is  strenuously  defending  a bill  in  the  Houst 
of  Commons  may  have  used  in  the  cabinet  the  very  argu- 
ments which  the  Opposition  are  using  in  the  House,  he 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  447 


may  have  been  overruled  without  being  convinced ; he 
may  still  think  the  conclusions  he  opposes  better  than 
those  which  he  inculcates.  It  is  idle  to  say  that  he  ought 
to  go  out ; at  least  it  amounts  to  saying  that  government 
by  means  of  a cabinet  is  impossible.  The  object  of  a com- 
mittee of  that  kind  is  to  agree  on  certain  conclusions ; if 
every  member  after  the  meeting  were  to  start  off  according 
to  the  individual  bent  and  bias  of  his  mind,  according  to 
his  own  individual  discretion  or  indiscretion,  the  previous 
concurrence  would  have  become  childish.  Of  course,  the 
actual  measure  proposed  by  the  collective  voice  of  several 
persons  is  very  different  from  what  any  one  of  these 
persons  would  of  himself  wish ; it  is  the  result  of  a com- 
promise between  them.  Each,  perhaps,  has  obtained  some 
concession  ; each  has  given  up  something.  Every  one  sees 
in  the  actual  proposal  something  of  which  he  strongly 
disapproves ; every  one  regrets  the  absence  of  something 
which  he  much  desires.  Yet  on  the  whole,  perhaps,  he  thinks 
the  measure  better  than  no  measure ; or  at  least  he  thinks 
that  if  he  went  out,  it  would  break  up  the  government ; 
and  imagines  it  to  be  of  more  consequence  that  the  govern- 
ment should  be  maintained  than  that  the  particular  measure 
should  be  rejected.  He  concedes  his  individual  judgment. 
No  one  has  laid  this  down  with  more  distinctness  than 
Sir  Robert  Peel ; — ‘ Supposing  a person  at  a dinner-table 
to  express  his  private  opinion  of  a measure  originating  with 
a party  with  whom  he  is  united  in  public  life,  is  he,  in  the 
event  of  giving  up  that  private  opinion  out  of  deference  to 
his  party,  to  be  exposed  to  a charge  almost  amounting  to 
dishonesty  ? The  idea  is  absurd. — What  is  the  every-day 


448 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


conduct  of  government  itself?  Is  there  any  one  in  this 
House  so  ignorant  as  to  suppose  that  on  all  questions  cabi- 
net ministers,  who  yield  to  the  decision  of  their  colleagues, 
speak  and  act  in  Parliament  in  strict  conformity  with  the 
opinions  they  have  expressed  in  the  cabinet  ? If  ministers 
are  to  be  taunted  on  every  occasion  that  they  hold  opinions 
in  the  cabinet  different  from  what  they  do  in  this  House, 
and  if  Parliament  is  to  be  made  the  scene  of  these  taunts, 
I believe  I should  not  be  going  too  far  in  saying,  the 
House  would  have  time  for  little  else.  It  is  the  uniform 
practice  with  all  governments,  and  I should  be  sorry  to 
think  the  practice  carries  any  stain  with  it,  for  a member 
of  the  administration  who  chances  to  entertain  opinions 
differing  from  those  of  the  majority  of  his  colleagues,  rather 
than  separate  himself  from  them,  to  submit  to  be  overruled, 
and  even  though  he  do  not  fully  concur  in  their  policy,  to 
give  his  support  to  the  measures  which,  as  an  administra- 
tion, they  promulgate.  I will  give  the  House  an  instance 
of  this  fact.  It  was  very  generally  reported  on  a late 
occasion,  that  upon  the  question  of  sending  troops  to 
Portugal  a strong  difference  of  opinion  took  place  in  the 
cabinet.  Now  would  it,  I ask,  be  either  just  or  fair  to 
call  on  those  who,  in  the  discussion  of  the  cabinet,  had 
spoken  in  favour  of  sending  out  troops  to  aid  the  cause  of 
Donna  Maria,  to  come  down,  and  in  Parliament  advocate 
that  measure  in  opposition  to  the  decision  of  their  col- 
leagues ? No  one  would  think  of  doing  so.’  It  may  not 
carry  a stain ; but  it  is  a painful  idea. 

It  is  evident,  too,  that  this  necessarily  leads  to  great 
apparent  changes  of  opinion — to  the  professed  belief  of  a 


THE  CHAKACTER  OP  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  449 


statesman  at  one  moment  being  utterly  different  from  what 
it  seems  t*  be  at  another  moment.  When  a government 
is  founded,  questions  A,  B,  C,  D,  are  the  great  questions 
of  the  day, — the  matters  which  are  obvious,  pressing, — 
which  the  public  mind  comprehends.  X,  Y,  Z,  are  in  the 
background,  little  thought  of,  obscure.  According  to  the 
received  morality,  no  statesman  would  hesitate  to  sacrifice 
the  last  to  the  first.  He  might  have  a very  strong  personal 
opinion  on  X,  but  he  would  surrender  it  to  a colleague  as 
the  price  of  his  co-operation  on  A or  B.  A few  years  after- 
wards times  change.  Question  A is  carried,  B settles  itself, 
C is  forgotten,  X becomes  the  most  important  topic  of  the 
day.  The  statesman  who  conceded  X before,  now  feels  that 
he  no  longer  can  concede  it ; there  is  no  equivalent.  He 
has  never  in  reality  changed  his  opinion,  yet  he  has  to 
argue  in  favour  of  the  very  measures  which  he  endeavoured 
before  to  argue  against.  Everybody  imagines  he  has 
changed,  and  without  going  into  details,  the  secrecy  of 
which  is  esteemed  essential  to  confidential  co-operation, 
it  is  impossible  that  he  can  evince  his  consistency.  No 
one  can  doubt  that  this  is  a very  serious  evil,  and  it  is 
plainly  one  consequent  on  or  much  exaggerated  by  a 
popular  and  argumentative  government.  It  is  very  possible 
for  a conscientious  man,  under  a bureaucratic  government, 
to  co-operate  with  the  rest  of  a council  in  the  elaboration 
and  execution  of  measures  many  of  which  he  thinks  in- 
expedient. Nobody  asks  him  his  opinion ; he  has  not  to 
argue,  or  defend,  or  persuade.  But  a free  government 
boasts  that  it  is  carried  on  in  the  face  of  day.  Its 
principle  is  discussion  ; its  habit  is  debate.  The  conse- 


450 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


quence  is,  that  those  who  conduct  it  have  to  defend 
measures  they  disapprove,  to  object  to  measures  they 
approve,  to  appear  to  have  an  accurate  opinion  on  points 
on  which  they  really  have  no  opinion.  The  calling  of  a 
constitutional  statesman  is  very  much  that  of  a political 
advocate ; he  receives  a new  brief  with  the  changing  cir- 
cumstances of  each  successive  day.  It  is  easy  to  conceive 
a cold  sardonic  intellect,  moved  with  contempt  at  such  a 
life,  casting  aside  the  half-and-half  pretences  with  which 
others  partly  deceive  themselves,  stating  any  thing,  pre- 
serving an  intellectual  preference  for  truth,  but  regarding 
any  effort  at  its  special  advocacy  as  the  weak  aim  of  foolish 
men,  striving  for  what  they  cannot  attain.  Lord  Lynd- 
hurst  has  shown  us  that  it  is  possible  to  lead  the  life  of 
Lord  Lyndhurst.  One  can  conceive,  too,  a cold  and  some- 
what narrow  intellect,  capable  of  forming,  in  any  un- 
troubled scene,  an  accurate  plain  conviction,  but  without 
much  power  of  entering  into  the  varying  views  of  others ; 
little  skilled  in  diversified  argument;  understanding  its 
own  opinion,  and  not  understanding  the  opinions  of  others; 
— one  can  imagine  such  a mind  pained,  and  cracked,  and 
shattered,  by  endeavouring  to  lead  a life  of  ostentatious 
argument  in  favour  of  others’  opinions,  of  half-conceal- 
ment of  its  chill  unaltering  essence.  It  will  be  for  posterity 
to  make  due  allowance  for  the  variance  between  the  cha- 
racter and  the  position  of  Lord  John  Eussell. 

Sir  Eobert  Peel  was  exactly  fit  for  this  life.  The  word 
which  exactly  fits  his  oratory  is — specious.  lie  hardlj 
ever  said  any  thing  which  struck  you  in  a moment  to  be 
true ; he  never  uttered  a sentence  which  for  a moment  any 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  451 


body  could  deny  to  be  plausible.  Once,  when  they  were 
opposed  on  a railway-bill,  the  keen  irascibility  of  Lord 
Derby  stimulated  him  to  observe,  ‘ that  no  one  knew  like 
the  right  honourable  baronet  how  to  dress  up  a case  for 
that  House.’  The  art  of  statement,  the  power  of  detail, 
the  watching  for  the  weak  points  of  an  opponent,  an  average 
style  adapting  itself  equally  to  what  the  speaker  believed 
and  what  he  disbelieved,  a business  air,  a didactic  precision 
for  what  it  was  convenient  to  make  clear,  an  unctuous 
disguise  of  flowing  periods,  and  ^ a deep  sense  of  responsi- 
bility ’ for  what  it  was  convenient  to  conceal — an  enormous 
facility, — made  Sir  Eobert  Peel  a nearly  unequalled  mastei 
of  the  art  of  political  advocacy.  For  his  times  he  was 
perhaps  quite  unequalled.  He  might  have  failed  in  times 
of  deep  outpouring  patriotic  excitement;  he  had  not 
nature  enough  to  express  it.  He  might  have  failed  in  an 
age  when  there  was  nothing  to  do,  and  when  elegant  per- 
sonality and  the  finesse  of  artistic  expression  were  of  all 
things  most  required.  But  for  an  age  of  important 
business,  when  there  were  an  unusual  number  of  great 
topics  to  be  discussed,  but  none  great  enough  to  hurry  men 
away  from  their  business  habits,  or  awaken  the  most  ardent 
passion  or  the  highest  imagination,  there  is  nothing  like 
the  oratory  of  Peel, — ^able  but  not  aspiring,  firm  but  not 
exalted,  never  great  but  ever  adequate  to  great  affairs.  It 
is  curious  to  know  that  he  was  trained  to  the  trade. 

^ Soon  after  Peel  was  born,  his  father,  the  first  baronet, 
finding  himself  rising  daily  in  wealth  and  consequence,  and 
believing  that  money  in  those  peculiar  days  could  always 
command  a seat  in  Parliament,  determined  to  bring  up  his 


452 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


son  expressly  for  the  House  of  Commons.  When  that  son 
was  quite  a child.  Sir  Robert  would  frequently  set  him  on 
the  table,  and  say,  Now,  Robin,  make  a speech,  and  I 
will  give  you  this  cherry.”  What  few  words  the  little 
fellow  produced  were  applauded;  and  applause  stimulating 
exertion,  produced  such  efiFects  that,  before  Robin  was  ten 
years  old,  he  could  really  address  the  company  with  some 
degree  of  eloquence.  As  he  grew  up,  his  father  constantly 
took  him  every  Sunday  into  his  private  room,  and  made 
him  repeat  as  well  as  he  could,  the  sermon  which  had 
been  preached.  Little  progress  in  effecting  this  was  made, 
and  little  was  expected  at  first ; but  by  steady  perseverance 
the  habit  of  attention  grew  powerful,  and  the  sermon  was 
repeated  almost  verbatim.  When  at  a very  distant  day 
the  senator,  remembering  accurately  the  speech  of  an  op- 
ponent, answered  his  arguments  in  correct  succession,  it 
was  little  knowm  that  the  power  of  so  doing  was  originally 
acquired  in  Drayton  church.’ 

A mischievous  observer  might  say  that  something  else 
had  remained  to  Sir  Robert  Peel  from  these  sermons. 
His  tone  is  a trifle  sermonic.  He  failed  where  perhaps 
alone  Lord  John  Russell  has  succeeded — in  the  oratory  of 
conviction. 

If  we  bear  in  mind  the  whole  of  these  circumstances; 
if  we  picture  in  our  minds  a nature  at  once  active 
and  facile,  easily  acquiring  its  opinions  from  without,  not 
easily  defusing  them  from  within,  a large  placid  adaptive 
intellect,  devoid  of  irritable  intense  originality,  prone  to 
forget  the  ideas  of  yesterday,  inclined  to  accept  the  ideas 
of  to-day, — if  we  imagine  a man  so  formed  cast  early  into 


THE  CHAEACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  453 


absorbing  exhausting  industry  of  detail,  with  work  enough 
to  fill  up  a life,  with  action  of  itself  enough  to  render 
speculation  alnaost  impossible, — placed  too  in  a position 
unsuited  to  abstract  thouglit,  of  which  the  conventions 
and  rules  require  that  a man  should  feign  other  men’s 
thoughts,  should  impugn  his  own  opinions, — we  shall 
begin  to  imagine  a conscientious  man  destitute  of  con- 
victions on  the  occupations  of  his  life — to  comprehend  the 
character  of  Sir  Eobert  Peel. 

That  Sir  Eobert  was  a very  conscientious  man  is  quite 
certain.  It  is  even  probable  that  he  had  a morbid  sense 
of  administrative  responsibility.  We  do  not  say  that  he 
was  so  weighed  down  as  Lord  Liverpool,  who  is  alleged 
never  to  have  opened  his  letters  without  a pang  of  fore- 
boding that  something  had  miscarried  somewhere ; but 
every  testimony  agrees  that  Sir  Eobert  had  an  anxious 
sense  of  duty  in  detail.  Lord  Wellesley,  in  the  memoir 
before  us,  on  an  occasion  when  it  would  have  been  at 
least  equally  natural  to  speak  of  administrative  capacity 
and  efficient  co-operation,  mentions  only  ‘ the  real  impres- 
sions which  your  kindness  and  high  character  have  fixed 
in  my  mind.’  The  circumstances  of  his  end  naturally 
produced  a crowd  of  tributes  to  his  memory,  and  hardly 
any  of  them  omit  his  deep  sense  of  the  obligations  of 
action.  The  characteristic  too  is  written  conspicuously  on 
every  line  of  these  memoirs.  Disappointing  and  external 
as  in  some  respects  they  seem,  they  all  the  more  evidently 
bear  witness  to  this  trait.  They  read  like  the  con- 
scientious  letters  of  an  ordinary  practical  man ; the  great 
statesman  has  little  other  notion  than  that  it  is  his  duty 


454 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


to  transact  his  business  well.  As  a conspicuous  merit, 
the  Duke  of  Wellington,  oddly  enough  according  to  some 
people’s  notions  at  the  time,  selected  Peel’s  veracity  : ^ In 
the  whole  course  of  my  communication  with  him  I have 
never  known  an  instance  in  which  he  did  not  show  the 
strictest  preference  for  truth.  I never  had,  in  the  whole 
course  of  my  life,  the  slightest  reason  for  suspecting  that 
he  stated  any  thing  which  he  did  not  firmly  believe  to  be 
the  fact.  I could  not  sit  down  without  stating  what  I 
believe,  after  a long  acquaintance,  to  have  been  his  most 
striking  characteristic.’  Simple  people  in  the  country 
were  a little  astonished  to  hear  so  strong  a eulogy  on  a 
man  for  not  telling  lies.  They  were  under  the  impression 
that  people  in  general  did  not.  But  those  who  have  con- 
sidered the  tempting  nature  of  a statesman’s  pursuits,  the 
secrets  of  office,  the  inevitable  complication  of  his  personal 
relations,  will  not  be  surprised  that  many  statesmen  should 
be  without  veracity,  or  that  one  should  be  eulogised  for 
possessing  it.  It  is  to  be  remarked,  however,  in  mitiga- 
tion of  so  awful  an  excellence,  that  Sir  Eobert  was  seldom 
‘ in  scrapes,’  and  that  it  is  on  those  occasions  that  the 
virtue  of  veracity  is  apt  to  be  most  severely  tested.  The 
same  remark  too  is  applicable  to  the  well-praised  truthful- 
ness of  the  Duke  himself. 

In  conjunction  with  the  great  soldier.  Sir  Eobert  Peel 
is  entitled  to  the  fame  of  a great  act  of  administrative 
conscience.  He  purified  the  Tory  party.  No  one  dis- 
putes that,  during  the  long  and  secure  reign  which  the 
Tories  enjoyed  about  the  beginning  of  the  century,  there 
was  much  of  the  corruption  naturally  incident  to  a strong 


THE  character  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  455 


party  with  many  adherents  to  provide  for,  uncontrolled  by 
an  effectual  Opposition,  unwatched  by  a great  nation. 
Of  course,  too,  any  government  commencing  in  the  last 
century  would  inevitably  have  adhering  to  it  various 
remanet  corruptions  of  that  curious  epoch.  Then  flou- 
rished those  mighty  sinecures  and  reversions,  a few  of 
which  still  remain  to  be  the  wonder  and  envy  of  an 
unenjoying  generation.  The  House  of  Commons  was  not 
difficult  then  to  manage.  There  is  a legend  that  a distin- 
guished Treasury  ofiScial  of  the  last  century,  a very  capable 
man,  used  to  say  of  any  case  which  was  hopelessly  and 
inevitably  bad:  ^ Ah,  we  must  apply  our  majority  to  this 
question ; ’ and  no  argument  is  so  effectual  as  the 
mechanical,  calculable  suffrage  of  a strong  unreasoning 
party.  There  were  doubtless  many  excellent  men  in  the 
Tory  party,  even  in  its  least  excellent  days ; but  the  two 
men,  to  whom  the  party,  as  such,  owes  most  of  purification 
were  the  Duke  of  Wellington  and  Sir  Eobert  Peel.  From 
the  time  when  they  became  responsible  for  the  manage- 
ment of  a Conservative  government,  there  was  no  doubt 
in  office  or  in  the  nation,  that  the  public  money  and 
patronage  were  administered  by  men  whom  no  consider- 
ation would  induce  to  use  either  for  their  personal 
benefit ; and  who  would,  as  far  as  their  whole  power 
lay,  discourage  and  prevent  the  corrupt  use  of  either  by 
others.  The  process  by  which  they  succeeded  in  con- 
veying this  impression  is  illustrated  by  a chapter  in  the 
Dean  of  York’s  Memoir  of  Peel,  in  which  that  well-known 
dignitary  recounts  the  temptations  which  he  applied  to  the 
political  purity  of  his  relative : 


456 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


‘ While  Peel  was  secretary  for  Ireland,  I asked  him  to 
give  a very  trifling  situation,  nominally  in  his  gift,  to  a 
worthy  person  for  whom  I felt  an  interest.  He  wrote  me 
word  that  he*  was  really  anxious  to  oblige  me  in  this  mat- 
ter, but  that  a nobleman  of  much  parliamentary  interest, 
who  supported  the  government,  insisted  upon  his  right  to 
dispose  of  all  patronage  in  his  own  neighbourhood.  So 
anxious  was  Peel  to  show  his  good  will  towards  me,  that 
he  prevailed  upon  the  Lord- Lieuteu ant  to  ask  as  a favour 
from  the  aforesaid  nobleman  that  the  situation  might  be 
given  to  my  nominee  ; but  the  marquis  replied,  that  the 
situation  was  of  no  value,  yet,  to  prevent  a dangerous  pre- 
cedent, he  must  refuse  the  application. 

‘ In  times  long  after,  when  Sir  Eobert  Peel  became 
prime  minister,  I asked  him  often  in  the  course  of  many 
years  for  situations  for  my  sons,  which  situations  were 
vacant  and  in  his  immediate  gift.  I subjoin  three  letters 
which  I received  from  him  on  these  subjects ; they  were 
written  after  long  intervals  and  at  different  periods,  but 
they  all  speak  the  same  language : 


* “ Whitehall,  December  20  (no  date  of  year). 

^ My  DEAR  Dean  of  York, — I thank  you  for  your  con- 
sideration of  what  you  deem  the  unrequited  sacrifice  which 
I make  in  the  public  service.  But  I beg  to  say,  that  my 
chief  consolation  and  reward  is  the  consciousness  that  my 
exertions  are  disinterested—  that  I have  considered  oflScial 
patronage  as  a public  trust,  to  be  applied  to  the  reward 
and  encouragement  of  public  service,  or  to  the  less  praise- 
worthy, but  still  necessary,  purpose  of  promoting  the  gene- 


THE  CHAKACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  45Y 


ral  interests  of  the  government.  That  patronage  is  so 
wholly  inadequate  to  meet  the  fair  claims  of  a public 
nature  that  are  daily  presented  for  my  consideration,  and 
that  constitute  the  chief  torment  of  office,  that  I can  only 
overcome  the  difficulties  connected  with  the  distribution 
by  the  utmost  forbearance  as  to  deriving  any  personal  ad- 
vantage from  it.  If  I had  absolute  control  over  the 
appointment  to  which  you  refer,  I should  apply  it  to  the 
satisfaction  of  one  or  other  of  the  engagements  into  which 
I entered  when  I formed  the  government,  and  which  (from 
the  absolute  want  of  means)  remain  unfulfilled.  But  I 
have  informed  the  numerous  parties  who  have  applied  to 
me  on  the  subject  of  that  appointment,  that  I felt  it  to  be 
my  duty,  on  account  of  the  present  condition  of  the  board 
and  the  functions  they  have  to  perform,  to  select  for  it 
some  experienced  man  of  business  connected  with  the 
naval  profession,  or  some  man  distinguished  in  that  pro’ 
fession, 

‘ Believe  me,  my  dear  Dean,  affectionately  yours, 

‘‘‘Eobert  Peel.” 

‘ I applied  again  for  another  place  of  less  importance , 
the  answer  was  much  as  before. 

* “ Whitehall,  April  5,  1843. 

‘ “ My  dear  Dean  of  York, — I must  dispose  of  the  ap- 
pointment to  which  you  refer  upon  the  same  principle  on 
which  I have  uniformly  disposed  of  every  appointment  of 
a similar  nature. 

‘ ‘‘I  do  not  consider  patronage  of  this  kind  (and,  indeed, 
I may  truly  say  it  of  all  patronage)  as  the  means  of  grati- 


80 


458 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


fying  private  mshes  of  any  one.  Those  who  have  made 
locally  great  sacrifices  and  great  exertions  for  the  main- 
tenance of  the  political  cause  which  they  espouse,  have 
always  been  considered  fairly  entitled  to  be  consulted 
in  respect  to  the  disposal  of  local  patronage,  and  would 
justly  complain  if,  in  order  to  promote  the  interests  of  a 
relative  of  my  own,  I were  to  disregard  their  recom- 
mendations. It  would  subject  me  to  great  personal  em- 
barrassment, and  be  a complete  departure  from  the  rule  to 
which  I have  always  adhered. 

‘ “All  patronage  of  all  descriptions,  so  far  from  being  of 
the  least  advantage  personally  to  a minister,  involves  him 
in  nothing  but  embarrassment. 

‘ “ Ever  affectionately  yours, 

‘ “ Eobert  Peel.” 

‘I  publish  one  more  letter  of  the  same  kind,  because  all 
these  letters  exhibit  the  character  of  the  writer,  and  con- 
tain matters  of  some  public  interest.  The  distributor  of 
stamps  died  in  the  very  place  where  my  son  was  resi- 
dent, and  where  he  and  I had  exerted  considerable  interest 
in  assisting  the  government  members.  I thought  that 
now,  perhaps,  an  exception  might  be  made  to  the  general 
rule,  and  I confidently  recommended  my  eldest  son  for  the 
vacancy.  The  following  was  the  answer : 


‘“Whitehall,  May  1, 

‘“My  dear  Dean, — Whatever  arrangements  may  be 
made  with  respect  to  the  office  of  distributor  of  stamps, lately 
held  by  Mr. , I do  not  feel  myself  justified  in  appro- 


THE  CHAEACTER  OF  SIE  EGBERT  PEEL.  459 


priating  to  myself  any  share  of  the  local  patronage  of  a 
county  with  which  I have  not  the  remotest  connection  by 
property,  or  any  other  local  tie. 

^ There  are  three  members  for  the  county  of who 

Hupport  the  government ; and,  in  addition  to  the  applica- 
tions which  I shall  no  doubt  have  from  them,  I have 

already  received  recommendations  from  the  Duke  of 

and  Earl , each  having  certainly  better  claims  than  I 

have  personally  for  local  appointments  in  the  county 
of . 

‘ “I  feel  it  quite  impossible  to  make  so  complete  a depar- 
ture from  the  principles  on  which  I have  invariably  acted, 
and  which  I feel  to  be  nothing  more  than  consistent  with 

common  justice,  as  to  take shire  ofBces  for  my  own 

private  purposes.  Very  faithfully  yours, 

‘ Egbert  Peel.” 

^ These  letters  show  the  noble  principle  on  which  Sir 
Robert’s  public  life  was  founded.  I am  quite  sure  that  he 
had  a great  regard  for  my  sons.  He  invited  them  to  his 
shooting-quarters,  was  pleased  to  find  them  amusement, 
and  made  them  many  handsome  presents  ; but  he  steadily 
refused  to  enrich  them  out  of  the  public  purse  merely  be- 
cause they  were  his  nephews.  Many  prime  ministers  have 
not  been  so  scrupulous.’ 

And  clearly  one  divine  wishes  Sir  Robert  Peel  had  not 
been  so. 

The  changes  of  opinion  which  Sir  Robert  Peel  under- 
went are  often  cited  as  indications  of  a want  of  conscien- 
tiousness. They  really  are,  subject,  of  course,  to  the 


460 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


preceding  remarks,  proof  of  Ms  conscientiousness.  We 
do  not  mean  in  the  obvious  sense  of  their  being  opposed 
to  his  visible  interest,  and  having  on  two  great  occasions 
destroyed  the  most  serviceable  party  organisation  ever 
ruled  by  a statesman  in  a political  age ; but  in  a more 
refined  sense,  the  timeliness  of  his  transitions  may,  without 
overstraining,  be  thought  a mark  of  their  honafides.  He 
could  not  have  changed  with  such  felicitous  exactness  if 
he  had  been  guided  by  selfish  calculation.  The  problems 
were  too  great  and  too  wide.  There  have,  of  course,  been 
a few  men, — Talleyrand  or  Theramenes  are  instances, — 
who  have  seemed  to  hit,  as  if  by  a political  sense,  the 
fitting  moment  to  leave  the  side  which  was  about  to  fall, 
and  to  join  the  side  which  was  about  to  rise.  But  these 
will  commonly  be  found  to  be  men  of  a very  different 
character  from  that  of  Peel.  Minds  are  divided  into 
open  and  close.  Some  men  are  so  sensitive  to  extrinsic 
impressions,  pass  so  easily  from  one  man  to  another,  catch 
so  well  the  tone  of  each  man’s  thought,  use  so  well  the 
opportunities  of  society  for  the  purposes  of  affairs,  that 
they  are,  as  it  were,  by  habit  and  practice,  metrical  instru- 
ments of  public  opinion.  Sir  Eobert  was  by  character, 
both  natural  and  acquired,  the  very  reverse.  He  was  a 
reserved,  occupied  man  of  business.  In  the  arts  of  society, 
in  the  easy  transition  from  person  to  person,  from  tone  to 
tone,  he  was  but  little  skilled.  If  he  had  been  left  to  pick 
up  his  rules  of  conduct  by  mere  social  perception  and 
observation,  his  life  would  have  been  a life  of  miscalcula^ 
tions  ; instead  of  admiring  the  timeliness  of  his  conversions, 
we  should  wonder  at  the  perversity  of  his  transitions 


THE  CHARACTEE  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  461 


The  case  is  not  new.  In  ancient  times,  at  a remarkable 
moment,  in  the  persons  of  two  selfish  men  of  genius,  the 
open  mind  was  contrasted  with  the  close.  By  a mar- 
vellous combination  of  successive  manoeuvres,  Julius  Caesar 
rose  from  ruin  to  empire ; the  spoiled  child  of  society — 
sensitive  to  each  breath  of  opinion — ever  living  among, 
at  least,  the  externals  of  enjoyment — always  retaining  by 
a genial  kindliness  of  manner,  friends  from  each  of  the 
classes  which  he  variously  used.  By  what  the  vulgar 
might  be  pardoned  for  thinking  a divine  infatuation,  Pom- 
peius  lost  the  best  of  political  positions,  threw  away  every 
recurring  chance,  and  died  a wandering  exile.  As  a 
reserved  ungenial  man,  he  never  was  able  to  estimate  the 
feeling  of  the  time.  ^ I have  only  to  stamp  with  my  foot 
when  the  occasion  requires,  to  raise  legions  from  the  soil 
of  Italy  1 ’ were  the  words  of  one  who  could  not,  in  his 
utmost  need,  raise  a force  to  strike  one  blow  for  Italy 
itself.  The  fate  of  Pompeius  would  have  been  that  of 
Peel,  if  he  too  had  played  the  game  of  selfish  calculation. 
His  changes,  as  it  has  been  explained,  are  to  be  otherwise 
accounted  for®  He  was  always  anxious  to  do  right.  An 
occupied  man  of  business,  he  was  converted  when  other 
men  of  business  in  the  nation  were  converted. 

It  is  not,  however,  to  be  denied,  that  a calm  and  bland 
nature  like  that  of  Peel  is  peculiarly  prone  to  self-illusion. 
Many  fancy  that  it  is  passionate  imaginative  men  who  most 
deceive  themselves ; and  of  course  they  are  more  tempted, 
— a more  vivid  fancy  and  a more  powerful  impulse  hurry 
them  away.  But  they  know  their  own  weakness.  ‘Do 
you  believe  in  ghosts,  Mr.  Coleridge  ? ’ asked  some  lady 


462 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


‘No,  ma’am,  I have  seen  too  many,’  was  the  answer.  A 
quiet  calm  nature,  when  it  is  tempted  by  its  own  wishes, 
is  hardly  conscious  that  it  is  tempted.  These  wishes  are 
so  gentle,  quiet,  as  it  would  say,  so  ‘ reasonable,’  that  it 
does  not  conceive  it  possible  to  be  hurried  away  into  error 
by  them.  Nor  is  there  any  hurry.  They  operate  quietly, 
gently,  and  constantly.  Such  a man  will  very  much  believe 
what  he  wishes.  Many  an  imaginative  outcast,  whom  no 
man  would  trust  with  sixpence,  really  forms  his  opinions 
on  points  which  interest  him  by  a much  more  intellectual 
process — at  least  has  more  purely  intellectual  opinions 
beaten  and  tortured  into  him — than  the  eminent  and 
respected  man  of  business,  in  whom  every  one  confides, 
who  is  considered  a model  of  dry  judgment,  of  clear  and 
passionless  equanimity.  Doubtless  Sir  Eobert  Peel  con- 
tinued to  believe  that  the  Corn-laws  were  beneficial  when 
no  one  in  the  distrusted  classes  even  fancied  that  they 
were  so. 

It  has  been  bitterly  observed  of  Sir  Eobert  Peel,  that 
he  was  ‘ a Eadical  at  heart ; ’ and,  perhaps  with  a similar 
thought  in  his  mind,  Mr.  Cobden  said  once,  at  a League 
meeting,  ‘ I do  not  altogether  like  to  give  up  Peel.  You 
see  he  is  a Lancashire  man.’  And  it  cannot  be  questioned 
that,  strongly  opposed  as  Sir  Eobert  Peel  was  to  the 
Eeform  Bill,  he  was  really  much  more  suited  to  the 
reformed  than  to  the  unreformed  House  of  Commons.  The 
style  of  debating  in  the  latter  was  described  by  one  who 
had  much  opportunity  for  observation.  Sir  James  Mackin- 
tosh, as  ‘continuous  animated  after-dinner  discussion.’ 
The  House  was  composed  mainly  of  men  trained  in  two 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  FEEL 


463 


great  schools,  on  a peculiar  mode  of  education,  with  no  great 
real  knowledge  of  the  classics,  but  with  many  lines  of  Virgil 
and  Horace  lingering  in  fading  memories,  contrasting 
oddly  with  the  sums  and  business  with  which  they  were 
necessarily  brought  side  by  side.  These  gentlemen  wanted 
not  to  be  instructed,  but  to  be  amused  ; and  hence  arose 
what,  from  the  circumstance  of  their  calling,  may  be  called 
the  class  of  conversationalist  statesmen.  Mr.  Canning  was 
the  type  of  these.  , He  was  a man  of  elegant  gifts,  of  easy 
fluency,  capable  of  embellishing  any  thing,  with  a nice  wit, 
gliding  swiftly  over  the  most  delicate  topics ; passing  from 
topic  to  topic  like  the  raconteur  of  the  dinner-table,  touch- 
ing easily  on  them  all,  letting  them  all  go  as  easily ; con- 
fusing you  as  to  whether  he  knows  nothing,  or  knows 
everything.  The  peculiar  irritation  which  Mr.  Canning 
excited  through  life  was  at  least  in  part  owing  to  the 
natural  wrath  with  which  you  hear  the  changing  talk  of 
the  practised  talker  running  away  about  all  the  universe ; 
never  saying  any  thing  which  indicates  real  knowledge, 
never  saying  anything  which  at  the  very  moment  can  be 
shown  to  be  a blunder ; ever  on  the  surface,  and  ever  in- 
gratiating itself  with  the  superficial.  When  Mr.  Canning 
was  alive,  sound  men  of  all  political  persuasions — the  Duke 
of  Wellington,  Lord  Grey — ever  disliked  him.  You  may 
hear  old  Liberals  to  this  day  declaring  he  was  the  greatest 
charlatan  who  ever  lived,  angry  to  imagine  that  his  very 
ghost  exists ; and  when  you  read  his  speeches  yourself,  you 
are  at  once  conscious  of  a certain  dexterous  insincerity 
which  seems  to  lurk  in  the  very  felicities  of  expression, 
and  to  be  made  finer  with  the  very  refinements  of  the 


464 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


phraseology.  Like  the  professional  converser,  he  seems  so 
apt  at  the  finesse  of  expression,  so  prone  to  modulate  his 
words,  that  you  cannot  imagine  him  putting  his  fine  mind 
to  tough  thinking,  really  working,  actually  grappling  with 
the  rough  substance  of  a great  subject.  Of  course,  if  this 
were  the  place  for  an  estimate  of  Mr.  Canning,  there  would 
be  some  limitation,  and  much  excuse  to  be  offered  for  all 
this.  He  was  early  thrown  into  what  we  may  call  an  aris- 
tocratic debating  society,  accustomed  to  be  charmed, 
delighting  in  classic  gladiatorship.  To  expect  a great 
speculator,  or  a principled  statesman,  from  such  a position, 
would  be  expecting  German  from  a Parisian,  or  plainness 
from  a diplomatist.  He  grew  on  the  soil  on  which  he  had 
been  cast ; and  it  is  hard,  perhaps  impossible,  to  separate 
the  faults  which  are  due  to  it  and  to  him.  He  and  it  have 
both  passed  away.  The  old  delicate  parliament  is  gone, 
and  the  gladiatorship  which  it  loved.  The  progress  of 
things,  and  the  Eeform  Bill  which  was  the  result  of  that 
progress,  have  taken,  and  are  taking,  the  national  repre- 
sentation away  from  the  university  classes,  and  conferring 
it  on  the  practical  classes.  Exposition,  arithmetic,  detail, 
reforms, — these  are  the  staple  of  our  modern  eloquence. 
The  old  boroughs  which  introduced  the  young  scholars  are 
passed  away  ; and  even  if  the  young  scholars  were  in  par- 
liament, the  subjects  do  not  need  the  classic  tact  of  expres- 
sion. Very  plain  speaking  suits  the  ^passing  tolls,’  ‘regis- 
tration of  joint-stock  companies,’  finance,  the  Post  Office. 
The  petty  regulation  of  the  details  of  civilisation,  which 
happily  is  the  daily  task  of  our  government,  does  not  need, 
does  not  suit,  a recherche  taste  or  an  ornate  eloquence. 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  465 


^.s  is  the  speech,  so  are  the  men.  Sir  Eobert  Peel  was  in- 
ferior to  Canning  in  the  old  parliament ; he  would  have 
been  infinitely  superior  to  him  in  the  new.  The  aristo- 
cratic refinement,  the  nice  embellishment,  of  the  old  time 
were  as  alien  to  him  as  the  detail  and  dryness  of  the  new 
era  were  suitable.  He  was  admirably  fitted  to  be  where 
the  Eeform  Bill  placed  him.  He  was  fitted  to  work  and 
explain ; he  was  not  able  to  charm  or  to  amuse. 

In  its  exact  form  this  kind  of  eloquence  and  statesman- 
ship is  peculiar  to  modern  times,  and  even  to  this  age. 
In  ancient  times  the  existence  of  slavery  forbade  the 
existence  of  a middle-class  eloquence.  The  Cleon  who 
possessed  the  tone  and  the  confidence  of  the  tradesmen 
was  a man  vulgar,  coarse,  speaking  the  sentiments  of  a 
class  whose  views  were  narrow  and  whose  words  were 
mean.  So  many  occupations  were  confined  to  slaves,  that 
there  was  scarcely  an  opening  for  the  sensible,  moderate, 
rational  body  whom  we  now  see.  It  was,  of  course,  always 
possible  to  express  the  sentiments  and  prejudices  of  persons 
in  trade.  It  is  new  to  this  era,  it  seems  created  for  Sir 
Eobert  Peel  to  express  those  sentiments,  in  a style  refined, 
but  not  too  refined ; which  will  not  jar  people  of  high  cul- 
tivation, which  will  seem  suitable  to  men  of  common  cares 
and  important  transactions. 

In  another  respect  Sir  Eobert  was  a fortunate  man. 
The  principal  measures  required  in  his  age  were  ‘ repeals.’ 
From  changing  circumstances,  the  old  legislation  would 
no  longer  suit  a changed  community ; and  there  was  a 
clamour  first  for  the  repeal  of  one  important  act,  and  then 
of  another.  This  was  suitable  to  the  genius  of  Peel.  He 


466 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


could  hardly  have  created  any  thing.  His  intellect, 
admirable  in  administrative  routine,  endlessly  fertile  in 
suggestions  of  detail,  was  not  of  the  class  which  creates, 
or  which  readily  even  believes  an  absolutely  new  idea. 
As  has  been  so  often  said,  he  typified  the  practical 
intelligence  of  his  time.  He  was  prone,  as  has  been 
explained,  to  receive  the  daily  deposits  of  insensibly-chang- 
ing opinion  ; but  he  could  bear  nothing  startling ; nothing 
bold,  original,  single,  is  to  be  found  in  his  acts  or  his 
words.  No  result  could  be  so  appropriate  to  such  a mind 
as  a conviction  that  an  existing  law  was  wrong.  The 
successive  gradations  of  opinion  pointed  to  a clear  and 
absolute  result.  When  it  was  a question,  as  in  the  case 
of  the  Reform  Bill,  not  of  simple  abolition,  but  of  exten- 
sive and  difl&cult  reconstruction,  he  ^ could  not  see  his 
way.’  He  could  be  convinced  that  the  anti-Catholic  laws 
were  wrong,  that  the  currency  laws  were  wrong ; that  the 
commercial  laws  were  wrong ; especially  he  could  be  con- 
vinced that  the  laissez-faire  system  was  right,  and  the 
real  thing  was  to  do  nothing;  but  he  was  incapable  of 
the  larger  and  higher  political  construction.  A more 
imaginative  genius  is  necessary  to  deal  with  the  conse- 
quences of  new  creations,  and  the  structure  of  an  unseen 
future. 

This  remark  requires  one  limitation.  A great  deal  of 
what  is  called  legislation  is  really  administrative  regulation. 
It  does  not  settle  what  is  to  be  done,  but  how  it  is  to  be 
done ; it  does  not  prescribe  what  our  institutions  shall  be, 
but  directs  in  what  manner  existing  institutions  shall  work 
and  operate.  Of  this  portion  of  legislation  Sir  Robert 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  SIR  ROBERT  PEEL.  467 

Peel  was  an  admirable  master.  Few  men  have  fitted  ad- 
ministrative regulations  with  so  nice  an  adjustment  to 
a prescribed  end.  The  Currency  Act  of  1844  was  an 
instance  of  this.  If  you  consult  the  speeches  by  which 
that  bill  was  introduced  and  explained  to  parliament,  you 
certainly  will  not  find  any  very  rigid  demonstrations  of 
political  economy,  or  dry  compactness  of  abstract  principle. 
Whether  the  abstract  theory  of  the  supporters  of  that  act 
be  sound  or  unsound,  no  exposition  of  it  ever  came  from 
the  lips  of  Peel.  He  assumed  the  results  of  that  theory ; 
but  no  man  saw  more  quickly  the  nature  of  the  adminis- 
trative machinery  which  was  required.  The  separation  of 
the  departments  of  the  Bank  of  England,  the  limitation 
of  the  country  issues,  though  neither  of  them  original 
ideas  of  Sir  Eobert’s  own  mind,  yet  were  not,  like  most  of 
his  other  important  political  acts,  forced  on  him  from  with- 
out. There  was  a general  agreement  among  the  received 
authorities  in  favour  of  a certain  currency  theory  ; the  ad- 
ministrative statesman  saw  much  before  most  men  what 
was  the  most  judicious  and  effectual  way  of  setting  it  at 
work  and  regulating  its  action. 

We  have  only  spoken  of  Sir  Eobert  Peel  as  a public 
man  ; and  if  you  wish  to  write  what  is  characteristic  about 
him,  that  is  the  way  to  do  so.  He  was  a man  whom  it 
requires  an  effort  to  think  of,  as  engaged  in  any  thing  but 
political  business.  Disraeli  tells  us  that  some  one  said 
that  Peel  was  never  happy  except  in  the  House  of  Com- 
mons, or  while  doing  something  which  had  some  relation 
to  something  to  be  done  there.  In  common  life  we  con- 
tinually see  some  men  as  it  were  scarcely  separable  from 


468 


POLITICAL  ESSAYS. 


their  pursuits : they  are  as  good  as  others,  but  their  visible 
nature  seems  almost  absorbed  in  a certain  visible  calling. 
When  we  speak  of  them  we  are  led  to  speak  of  it, 
when  we  would  speak  of  it  we  are  led  insensibly  to 
speak  of  them.  It  is  so  with  Sir  Eobert  Peel.  So  long 
as  constitutional  statesmanship  is  what  it  is  now,  so  long 
as  its  function  is  the  recording  the  views  of  a confused 
nation,  so  long  as  success  in  it  is  confined  to  minds  plastic, 
changeful,  administrative, — we  must  hope  for  no  better 
man.  You  have  excluded  the  profound  thinker;  you 
must  be  content  with  what  you  can  obtain — the  business! 
gentleman 


. . . 

TWENTIETH  CENTURY  TEXT-BOOKS. 


A History  of  the  British  Nation. 

By  George  M.  Wrong,  M.A.,  Professor  of  History  in 
the  University  of  Toronto.  i2mo.  Cloth,  ;^i.3o. 

Next  to  the  history  of  his  own  country  the  pupil  in  the 
American  school  is  interested  in  that  of  England,  and  also  of 
Scotland  and  Ireland,  for  there  the  beginnings  of  American 
political,  social,  and  intellectual  life  must  be  studied. 

The  aim  of  this  book  is,  first  of  all,  to  explain  clearly  the 
growth  of  the  political  institutions  of  England.  What  is 
most  remarkable  in  English  history  is  the  steady,  resistless 
development  from  the  rule,  in  the  earlier  periods,  of  the 
King,  assisted  by  a few  nobles,  to  the  supremacy  in  the 
present  day  of  the  House  of  Commons,  representing  the 
masses  of  the  nation.  The  Kings,  however,  were  real  rulers 
in  the  earlier  centuries,  and  it  is  fitting  that  special  attention 
should  be  given  to  such  strong  characters  as  Henry  II, 
Edward  I,  Henry  VIII,  and  the  Protector,  Oliver  Cromwell. 
In  the  last  two  centuries  it  is  ministers  like  Walpole,  the  two 
Pitts,  Peel,  and  Gladstone  who  figure  most  conspicuously. 

The  author  has  aimed  to  be  not  only  instructive  but  in- 
teresting, and  he  has  succeeded  in  packing  into  an  attractive 
and  not  very  large  volume  the  really  salient  things  in  Eng- 
lish history. 

A manual  of  suggestions  for  teachers  is  furnished  with  the 
volume,  and  a carefully  selected  list  of  references  for  further 
courses  of  reading  will  also  be  provided. 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY, 

NEW  YORK.  BOSTON.  CHICAGO.  LONDON. 


TWENTIETH  CENTURY  TEXT-BOOKS. 


HISTORY. 

A History  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

By  Dana  C.  Munro,  A.M.,  Professor  of  European  His- 
tory, University  of  Wisconsin.  lemo.  Cloth,  90  cents. 
Teacher’s  Manual. 

A History  of  Modern  Europe. 

By  Merrick  Whitcomb,  Professor  of  Modern  History 
in  the  University  of  Cincinnati.  lamo.  Cloth,  fi.io. 

Beginning  where  the  “History  of  the  Middle  Ages”  ends,  this  book  re- 
views graphically  the  events  of  the  more  recent  centuries  of  European  history, 
and  of  the  political,  social,  and  intellectual  evolution  in  which  events  become 
incidents.  Greater  emphasis  than  is  usual  is  laid  upon  the  essential  features  of 
English  history  in  order  that  the  book  may  meet  the  needs  of  those  who  omit 
the  year  devoted  to  English  history,  recommended  by  the  Committee  of  Seven. 

Teacher's  Manual. 

Medieval  and  Modern  History. 

By  Munro  and  Whitcomb.  One  volume  edition  of  the 
two  foregoing.  i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.50. 

A History  of  the  British  Nation. 

By  George  M.  Wrong,  M.A.,  Professor  of  History  in 
the  University  of  Toronto.  i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.30. 

With  many  illustrations  calculated  to  throw  light  upon  the  daily  life  of  the 
people.  A manual  of  suggestions  for  teachers  is  furnished  with  the  volume, 
with  a carefully  selected  list  of  references  for  further  courses  of  reading. 

A History  of  the  American  Nation. 

By  Andrew  C.  McLaughlin,  A.M.,  LL.B.,  Director  of 
the  Bureau  of  Historical  Research,  Carnegie  Institute, 
Washington,  D.  C.  With  Maps  and  numerous  Illustrations. 
i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.40. 

Teacher's  Manual. 


The  Life  of  the  Ancient  Greeks. 

With  special  reference  to  Athens.  By  Charles  Burton 
Gulick,  Ph.D.,  Assistant  Professor  of  Greek  in  Harvard 
University.  i2mo.  Cloth,  $1.40. 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK. 


— — f I 

TWENTIETH  CENTURY  TEXT-BOOKS* 


A History  of  Modern  Europe. 

By  Merrick  Whitcomb,  Professor  of  Modern  History, 
University  of  Cincinnati.  i2mo.  Cloth,  $i.io. 

Beginning  where  the  HISTORY  OF  the  Middle  Ages 
ends,  at  the  close  of  the  thirteenth  century,  the  author  of  A His- 
tory OF  Modern  Europe  traces  the  transition  of  feudalism 
into  modern  forms  of  government  and  brings  modern  insight  and 
research  to  bear  upon  his  treatment  of  the  growth  of  nations. 

The  book  reviews  graphically  the  events  of  the  more  recent 
centuries  of  European  history,  and  the  political,  social,  and  intel- 
lectual evolution  in  which  events  become  incidents. 

The  great  stress  laid  upon  the  contemporary  period  strikes 
a new  note  in  harmony  with  the  changed  attitude  which  the 
American  schools  of  history  have  taken  toward  the  past.  This 
differentiates  Professor  Whitcomb’s  History  of  Modern 
Europe  from  its  predecessors  and  focuses  the  attention  of  the 
student  upon  the  underlying  principles  of  growth  which  have  led 
to  present-day  conditions. 

Greater  emphasis  than  is  usual  in  modern  histories  of  equal 
length  is  laid  upon  the  essential  features  of  English  History  in 
order  that  the  book  may  meet  the  needs  of  those  who  choose,  or 
who  are  obliged,  to  omit  the  year  devoted  to  English  History 
recommended  by  the  Committee  of  Seven. 

With  the  references  included  in  this  History  OF  Modern 
Europe,  and  the  manuals  published  in  connection  with  the 
Twentieth  Century  Series  of  Text  Books,  the  subject 
may  easily  be  amplified  to  suit  each  teacher’s  individual  preference. 

A History  of  Modern  Europe  is  unique  and  timely 
in  the  careful  and  scholarly  attention  given  the  organic  growth  and 
development  of  the  colonial  idea.  With  the  rapidly  increasing 
duties  of  the  United  States  toward  colonial  dependencies  a text- 
book emphasizing  these  points  has  become  a necessity. 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY, 

NEW  YORK.  BOSTON.  CHICAGO.  LONDON. 


^ 

/ , -“THE  TRUTH  ABOUT  THE  BOERS" 


By  HOWARD  C.  HILLEGAS. 

Oom  Paul’s  People. 

With  Illustrations.  i2mo.  Cloth,  ^1.50. 

[the  author]  has  written  a plain,  straightforward  nar- 
rative of  what  he  himself  saw  and  learned  during  his  recent  visit 
to  South  Africa.  . . . The  only  criticism  of  it  will  be  that 
which  Sam  Weller  passed  on  his  own  love  letter,  that  the  reader 
^will  wish  there  was  more  of  it’ — which  is  the  great  art  of 
letter- writing  and  of  book- writing.  ” — New  York  World, 

^^The  first  systematic  and  categorical  exposition  of  the 
merits  of  the  whole  case  and  its  origins  written  by  a disinterested 
observer.  . . . An  informing  book,  and  a well-written  one.” — 
New  York  Mail  and  Express, 

Gives  precisely  the  information  necessary  to  those  who 
desire  to  follow  intelligently  the  progress  of  events  at  the  present 
time.” — New  York  Commercial  Advertiser, 

The  Boers  in  War. 

The  True  Story  of  the  Burghers  in  the  Field. 
Elaborately  illustrated  with  Photographs  by  the 
Author  and  Others.  Uniform  with  “Oom  Paul’s 
People.”  i2mo.  Cloth,  I1.50. 

A book  of  even  wider  interest  than  ^ Oom  Paul’s  People.’ 
A most  novel  and  curious  account  of  a military  form  that  has 
never  been  duplicated  in  modern  times  ; exceptionally  interesting. 
Mr.  Hillegas  has  given  us  beyond  question  the  best  account  yet 
published.” — Brooklyn  Eagle, 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY,  NEW  YORK. 


/tr  - jv# 


^•>.v  -i-rf  /-4 r 


UNIVERSITY  OF  ILLINOIS-URBANA 


II  I 

III 

!| 

III 

I 

II  II 

L 3 0112114153270  J 

